


like cabbages and kings

by you_explode



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland Fusion, Alternate Universe - Magic, Childhood Friends, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasy, First Time Blow Jobs, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, M/M, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pure Absurdity, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Royal Harry, Utopia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-05 16:57:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 60,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14623110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_explode/pseuds/you_explode
Summary: When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.





	1. Louis

**Author's Note:**

> a billion thanks to L for being my beta, cheerleader, hand-holder, and inspiration. this fic literally would not exist without him and all my favourite parts came from him. thank you for loving, nurturing, and being as excited about this world and these characters as i am, i could never thank you enough <3 he also made the moodboard on [this tumblr post](http://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/post/173825032668/like-cabbages-and-kings-for-onedirectionbigbang) and i love it with my whole heart.
> 
> [another massive thank you to nina/pattern-pals for making the most beautiful, thoughtful art](http://pattern-pals.tumblr.com/post/173824980015/its-magic-lou-harry-says-earnestly)! it's so clever and lovely, she totally captured the essence of the fic and i'm obsessed with it <3 she also made the little drawings throughout the fic, which is something i've wanted to have in a fic forever! i'm so so happy and honoured that she chose my fic and that we got to work together <3
> 
> there's a playlist for this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/ificouldflyhomehl/playlist/6454g8GPvN3nIAuNoi0CXb) that's actually more like a soundtrack, and i really recommend you listen to the songs while you read. i have it on good authority that it enhances the experience hahaha. 
> 
> so my version of wonderland is basically a combination of things from every adaptation of alice that there is, as well as elements from peter pan, beauty and the beast, and probably various other disney things. also i blatantly stole a concept from an enid blyton series. so yeah, anything you recognise isn't mine.

Alice.

 _when the world’s crashing down_ _  
_ _when I fall and hit the ground_ _  
_ _I will turn myself around_  
_don’t you try to stop me_

 

The first time it happens, Louis is eight. His parents have started fighting, at nighttime when they think everyone is asleep. And, well, the girls _are_ asleep – with Charlotte only two and Felicite a baby, they have no clue what’s going on – but Louis is always wide awake. He’ll lie in his bed, listening to their angry voices, and a deep well of anxiety and sadness will burst open in his chest.

He remembers life before Mark, even though he was only five - remembers how busy his mum was with working to support them, how he spent so much time with his nan. The angry fighting signals nothing good, and it’s like there’s a dark cloud hanging over his house. He knows, somehow, that things are about to change.

One night, the night it happens, Louis sneaks out of the house. It’s past his bedtime, he should be asleep, but it’s a particularly bad fight; his mum is crying, and Louis can’t handle it. He creeps down to the back of the garden, his Spider-Man torch in hand, and lies down in the grass. He stares up at the stars, and wishes things were different.

Part of him wants to run away. He wishes he could, but even if it were possible for an eight year old to live on his own, he could never leave his mum. He just, he wants to get away, if only for a little while. Wants to escape until the angry voices have stopped and his house is full of love and laughter again.

He hears a twig snap, and then a voice, and his heartrate skyrockets, thinking he’s been caught. When he sits up, though, there’s nobody near the house, and instead he sees a flash of white by the fence. He turns on his torch, shines it at the fence, and there – standing there is a white rabbit. A white rabbit, about half Louis’s size, standing on his hind legs, dressed in a waistcoat, carrying a pocketwatch. It strikes Louis that these are very odd things for anyone to be carrying, let alone a rabbit, and then he rubs his eyes with his spare hand. He has to be seeing things.

“Oh no!” the rabbit cries, and – Louis’s mouth drops open. Can the rabbit really talk? Louis’s first thought is that he’d imagined it, but then the rabbit looks straight at him and says, “Can’t chat, I’m late!”

And then he bounds through a hole in the fence, like it’s perfectly normal for rabbits to talk.

Louis has to be dreaming. Except he can’t remember falling asleep. He pinches himself, but it’s no use, so he punches himself lightly in the arm. Nothing. He’s still sitting in his garden.

Shakily, he gets to his feet, deciding that he can’t figure out if it’s a dream unless he sees the white rabbit again. He wonders where he’s gone to – and what on earth a rabbit could be late for. He makes his way to the fence, and then, when he goes to stick his head through the hole in it, he stops.

The hole is shimmering. It isn’t so much a hole, really, as it is two missing panels, but that gap in the fence is outlined in a shining substance, like glitter, almost, and the whole missing section is shimmering.

 _Magic_ , Louis thinks, even though he knows that’s ridiculous.

As ridiculous as talking rabbits wearing waistcoats.

Nevertheless, Louis sticks his hand in, as he’s always been a curious boy, and it’s the oddest thing – his hand disappears, and he feels this sensation, exactly like submerging his hand in water.

“It has to be magic,” Louis says to himself, and suddenly he has a decision to make, and quickly too, if he wants to catch the white rabbit. Should he step through, into whatever magical world this is?  Or should he go back to bed and forget he ever saw this?

A loud crash from the house, followed by Felicite howling and a burst of yelling, makes the decision for him. _Escape escape escape_ , chants Louis’s mind, and he steps through the gleaming hole in his fence.

He regrets it immediately, because suddenly he’s free-falling. It’s dark, and he’s dropped his torch, and he feels like his stomach’s fallen out through his head.

What follows is a bizarre adventure through a world crazier than any of his dreams. He meets a field of talking flowers, a cryptic caterpillar who blows smoke in his face, countless talking animals dressed in old-fashioned clothes, and a man with a bizarre hat who seems a bit mental.

And, most importantly, he meets Harry. Harry’s six, which should be too young for Louis to play with, and yet. And yet they click instantly. Louis felt overwhelmed and terrified until he ran into Harry, and being around him calms Louis down. Harry shows him absurd, wonderful things, and they play for hours. Louis doesn’t want to leave, but at some point he opens his eyes and he’s in his bed. And it’s morning.

It happens again a few nights later, except this time it’s when he’s lying in bed, his eyes scrunched tight and muttering, “Stop fighting stop fighting stop fighting,” as if that will stop them. There’s a dinging sound from his mirror, like a windchime, almost, and when Louis looks over, he sees Harry. Or, well, a miniature version of him. Inside the mirror. Tapping on the glass.

Louis gets up out of bed and approaches the mirror. “Harry?” he whispers. “Is that really you?”

“Yes!” says Harry, his voice small but clear. “I thought you might like to come and play!”

Louis looks at Harry, and he listens to the muffled shouting from the kitchen, and he nods. “I would,” he says. “Very much. But I’m too big to come through the mirror.”

Harry giggles. “No you’re not,” he says. “You’re about the same size as this mirror, aren’t you? Just climb up on your dresser and slide through.”

Louis frowns, but he supposes Harry knows what he’s talking about. He takes everything off his dresser, then climbs up onto it, using the drawer knobs for support. Once he’s sat on the dresser, he frowns at the mirror, because he’s still too big, and Harry, who’s about the size of two of Louis’s hands, giggles at him. Louis reaches out to bop him on the head, and his fingers go right through the glass.

Harry holds out something – it’s a cake. He holds out a cake, and Louis stares at him.

“Eat this,” Harry says. “You’ll be my size, then, and you won’t have to worry about fitting through it.”

Louis gingerly takes the cake from Harry – it’s smaller than a biscuit, really, for him  – and tries to prepare himself before he pops it in his mouth. It’s delicious, like a little piece of chocolatey heaven, but the swooping sensation of shrinking several feet takes away from the taste.

“Come on!” Harry says, grinning at him from the other side of the glass.

His parents’ voices sound incredibly loud now that he’s this tiny. Louis wants to cry, but then he focuses on Harry’s smile. Louis smiles back and, against his better instinct, walks into his reflection in the mirror.

Except of course he actually walks _through_ the mirror, and then there’s Harry, looking delighted to see him.

And so it goes, for weeks and weeks, adventure after adventure. Wonderland is absurd, and sometimes Louis isn’t sure how much he likes it, but Harry is incredible. He’s two years younger than Louis but he’s still better than any friend Louis has in the real world, so much fun and so charming and endearing. He’s completely the loveliest person Louis’s ever met. And he _knows_ Wonderland, he helps Louis keep his bearings, and without him Louis knows he’d be truly lost.

Louis doesn’t really have words to properly describe how he feels about Harry. He just knows he misses him every second he’s in the real world, away from Wonderland. He feels like he’s given Harry a tiny piece of his heart, and he’s okay with that.

Things are bad with his mum and Mark for a while, but Louis has Wonderland and Harry to distract him from it. Then there’s the divorce, which has Louis going to Wonderland every single night. And then, when Louis turns nine, things are sort of okay. They’re not perfect, but they’re better. And suddenly, Louis can’t figure out how to go back to Wonderland. The shimmering barrier doesn’t appear to him again.

It won’t happen again until he’s twenty-five.

How Soon Is Now?

 _when you say it's gonna happen “now”, well when exactly do you mean?_ _  
_ _see I've already waited too long and all my hope is gone_ _  
_ _you shut your mouth, how can you say I go about things the wrong way?_  
_I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does_

 

Manchester is so dreary. Louis hates it, hates how cold and wet it is, hates how lonely he is, hates his dead-end job, hates that he isn’t in love with his boyfriend, hates that he can’t afford a flat where the heating fucking works.

He sighs as he stares out the bus window. Another morning below freezing, and December’s barely started; he has a whole freezing winter ahead of him yet. Also, his kettle’s broken, so this morning he had to microwave his tea like a bloody American, plus his normal bus was running early, so he’d missed it, and the next bus was running late, so now he’ll be late for work. He’s in an absolute shit of a mood.

When he finally gets to work, his boss yells at him for being twenty bloody minutes late, acting as if it were an hour. Louis is positive his boss hates him, he’s just not sure why. Louis gets along with almost everyone else in the office; he knows he’s the life of the party, and he’s been described as the ‘darling of the office’. He has high standards for his work, but he thinks work should be fun. Enjoyable. He does his best to do as much in the office as he can.

He hates working underneath Simon Jones. He’s constantly interrupting Louis’s day, demanding he drop everything to do unimportant tasks, and he’s never satisfied. Louis physically couldn’t possibly do enough for him. Plus, Louis is half-convinced that he’s genuinely evil.

Louis thought getting into publicity would be good for him. It’s exciting, he gets to work in the entertainment industry, he gets to meet celebrities and industry heavyweights. Ideally, Louis would love to be an actor, and he dabbles in theatre on the side, but for now, he’s networking and learning how the industry works.

That’s the part he struggles with.

An SJPR client’s career is taking off - Louis’s honestly kind of obsessed with him, he plays an arachnid superhero in the biggest franchise there is right now - and he’s so young, and he’s closeted. Louis’s job at the moment essentially revolves around making sure this kid _stays_ closeted.

Louis hates it. He hates every time he has to sit in on a meeting with Simon and Tom, and watch Simon brainwash this kid into thinking his career would tank if he came out. It’s 2017; the world should be ready for a gay Spider-Man. Even if Sony essentially fired Andrew Garfield for making the suggestion.

Now that December’s started, they’re rolling out a new promo campaign. The campaign is mutually beneficial - it works as promo for his movies, and to re-enforce Tom’s closet. They’re going public about him dating a co-star. Luckily for Tom, he and Zendaya do seem to be actual friends. Louis still feels guilt eating at his insides as he proofreads the press release.

He dawdles with sending it off to be approved, and only does when an email comes through from Simon reminding him about the meeting with Tom and Zendaya in fifteen minutes. Louis takes the spare time to go into the kitchen and make himself a strong cup of tea.

The meeting is strained from the start. Tom isn’t his usual friendly self, he’s clearly uncomfortable and a bit pissed off. He and Zendaya don’t want to fake a relationship. Simon starts his spiel again about why Tom needs to do this, and Tom’s manager nods along while he, Zendaya, and his assistant slash best friend Harrison seethe.

Louis’s always been suspicious of Harrison, and his clenched jaw right now isn’t helping. Louis’s pretty sure Tom and Harrison are in a relationship, and he can’t imagine how hard that must be, having to keep such a big secret. Always watching over your shoulder. Feeling like the people you’ve hired to look after you don’t give a shit about your best interests.

Well, fuck that. Louis’s had it. He can’t be a part of this anymore.

“We all know your track record with keeping secrets, Tom,” Simon’s saying. “This way, even if you do let something slip, it won’t matter. If you have a girlfriend, it’s easy to write that stuff off.”

“ _That stuff_ is his life,” Louis says. “You’re asking him to hide who he _is_.”

Tom’s eyes jolt from the table to Louis, and there’s a sudden brightness in them. Yeah, fuck it. Louis will defend this kid to the death.

Simon looks like he just smelled something awful. “This is a necessary precaution, you know that.”

“Actually, I don’t know that I do,” says Louis. “Personally, I think a glass closet is a better option. At least then you’re not turning his life into a lie.”

Simon grits his teeth. “Louis,” he says. “I thought we were on the same page here.”

“Don’t know what gave you that impression,” Louis says. “Really, what made you think that as a gay man, I’d just sit here and let you impose this homophobic bullshit on a kid?”

“Hey, I’m only a few years younger than you,” Tom objects.

He’s wrong, he’s five years younger, which is basically a lifetime. “You’re a baby,” Louis tells him. “And your team should be protecting you, not feeding you harmful rubbish.”

“Louis,” Simon barks. “That’s enough. I won’t have you claiming that we’re homophobic. You know that’s not the case. This is just how the industry works.”

“Mm, no,” says Louis. “Pretty sure it’s homophobic to assume you won’t be able to earn as much money off a gay client. Isn’t that why you charge them a higher rate?”

There’s a few short gasps from Tom’s side of the table, but Louis is distracted by Simon. He’s so livid, he might actually be turning purple.

“We charge a higher rate when we know we’ll be doing more work,” Simon splutters.

“But why?” Louis says. “You, and Sony, and Marvel, have all assumed that audiences won’t support a gay actor in the MCU. I think you’re wrong. I think Tom’s likeable enough that it won’t matter, and if you did your job properly, that’s what you’d do. Showcase him for who he is, instead of hiding him away. And don’t tell a _kid_ that he’s destined to fail just for being himself.”

“I think you need to leave,” Simon says, barely disguised rage simmering in his voice. “Wait for me in my office.”

“Wait, Mr Jones,” Tom says. “I’ve made a decision.” He pushes away the contract sitting in front of him. “I’m not signing this. And if you don’t come up with a better idea for promo, I won’t be re-signing with you in a few months.” He tilts his chin up. “Louis’s right. This is homophobic bullshit, and I can do better.”

Louis feels his heart soar, even with the murderous glare Simon’s throwing him. After Tom and his team leave, Simon grunts, “My office. Now.”

As soon as the door shuts behind them, Simon tells him in no uncertain terms that he is fired. He even pulls up Louis’s contract and goes through to find specifically which clauses Louis broke. Technically it seems to come down to the fact that Louis exposed their fee structure to a client and demolished their campaign, but Simon harps on about how he has no loyalty, so Louis can’t help thinking that Simon feels like he personally betrayed him.

While losing his job is obviously not ideal, a small part of Louis is thrilled that he won’t be a part of this evil machine anymore. If he had any money or contacts, he’d be starting up his own publicity firm, just to prove that things can be done differently.

Oh well. This might give him a chance to focus on the production of Hamlet he’s in. And he knows a few other publicists he could possibly go to for a job. Or he could find an easy retail job until he gets on his feet.

By the time he’s on the bus, he’s almost excited about the possibility of focusing on his acting. And then he gets a call from Mary, the producer of the show, to tell him Hamlet’s been cancelled due to lack of funds. He’s fucking morose as he trudges from the bus to his flat, a box filled with his possessions in his arms. At least he got half a day off today. And has nothing but days off for the foreseeable future.

He perks up when he realises that Aiden should be home. Their relationship isn’t perfect, in fact most of the time Louis’s pretty sure he’s just in it to be in it. But he likes having a warm body to come home to, and today’s the kind of day where he really needs it.

He opens the front door, shimmies in, and knocks it closed behind him with his elbow. He walks through to the kitchen to put down his box of stuff. He can hear faint noises in the bedroom, so he heads there.

“You will not believe the fucking day I’ve had,” Louis says, and then he opens the bedroom door.

The first thing he registers are Aiden’s wide eyes. And then his naked body. And then his friend’s naked body.

Louis inhales sharply. “Wow,” he says.

“Louis,” Aiden says, scrambling to cover himself and his friend - who Louis doesn’t even recognise. “This is, um - ”

“Not what it looks like?” Louis guesses, then chuckles weakly.

Aiden looks at him pleadingly. “No, it is, I’m not gonna say it isn’t.”

“Right,” Louis says. He thinks maybe he should leave - Aiden’s friend clearly wants him to, he looks incredibly uncomfortable. But fuck him - this is Louis’s flat, and that’s Louis’s bed, and that’s his shitty boyfriend. He’s not leaving. “So how long has this been going on?”

Aiden bites his lip. “Um,” he says. “About five months.”

Louis feels like he’s been slapped. Yeah, their relationship isn’t ideal. Louis knows he’s not really in this - he’s not in love with Aiden, and he doesn’t try to be. It still fucking hurts that Aiden chose to fall into bed with someone else instead of just talking to him. That he’s been _lying_ for five fucking months.

“I’m sorry,” Aiden says.

“Get out,” Louis says. “Just - take your stuff and get out. I’m gonna go, and when I get back, I don’t want to see you or any of your stuff.”

“Lou,” says Aiden, like he wants to plead his case. Louis doesn’t see the fucking point. This is clearly the end.

“Thanks for being a real piece of shit, by the way,” Louis says, and then he turns and walks out.

♠♥♦♣

It’s been almost a week since Aiden left, and Louis’s barely left his flat. He’s applied for unemployment, and he has his savings to last him through the next few weeks. He doesn’t know what he’ll do after that, and he doesn’t much care.

He doesn’t feel like a person anymore. He eats maybe once a day, if he remembers – usually he doesn’t. Sometimes he watches crap telly, but mostly he’s been sleeping. Or just lying in his bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

He can’t believe there’s only two weeks until his birthday, only two weeks until Christmas. He feels empty, and he misses Aiden. He misses his sisters. He misses his mum.

It’s been two years since she passed away – two years to the day tomorrow. Louis still picks up his phone to ring her all the time, and it’s a hard punch to the gut every time he remembers he can’t.

The last two years have gone by so quickly, and so much has changed. Louis feels like his life has slowly been spiralling downhill, and he’s just now fallen the rest of the way all at once. He hasn’t been very close with his sisters since he was a child, but he loves them with all his heart. Except he hardly hears from either of them anymore - Lottie moved to London, moved in with her boyfriend, and she’s very busy with her new job, and Felicite moved to bloody New York. Their lives have changed so much, and then there’s Louis. His life is painted a dreary grey. He doesn’t even have his terrible job or his shitty boyfriend anymore. He’s fallen out of contact with anyone he once considered a friend, and he doesn’t even want to try to get back in touch – he’d only compare their lives to his and depress himself further. There’s no one he trusts, no one to turn to.

And tomorrow’s the anniversary of the death of the only person he wants to talk to.

It’s no wonder Louis can’t get out of bed; he’s exhausted by his own pathetic sadness.

Where Is My Mind?

 _with your feet in the air and your head on the ground_ _  
_ _try this trick and spin it, yeah_ _  
_ _your head will collapse, but there's nothing in it_  
_and you'll ask yourself, where is my mind?_

 

Louis wakes up early the next morning to a crash in the garden. He grasps around his bed for his phone, which then blinds him when he presses the home button. It’s 4:28am. It’s 4:28am, and something’s crashing about in the garden behind his flat.

Louis drags himself out of bed and looks out the window, and he can see an eerie green light coming out of the bushes behind the back fence.

And he’s curious. It’s the strongest emotion he’s felt in days besides sadness, so he gets dressed haphazardly in the first semi-clean clothes he finds – Adidas trackies, a big blue jumper and his Vans – and grabs his phone, his keys and his wallet, just in case.

It’s quiet outside. The green glow from behind the hedges seems even eerier, now; so silent, and it looks like more of a bluish green. Louis feels himself drawn to it, though, and he slowly steps closer.

And then the bushes rustle loudly, startling Louis so badly he’s short of breath for a moment. And then, just as suddenly, a rabbit jumps out of the hedge. It’s oddly large, for a rabbit, maybe knee-high and skinny. It’s standing on its hind legs, and none of that is even the weirdest thing about it – the weirdest thing is that it’s _dressed_. It’s wearing a blue and gold waistcoat, and Louis stares. Has someone’s pet rabbit gotten out, maybe? Is there someone in this building who dresses up their large pet rabbit?

“Sorry to bother you,” says the rabbit. _Says the rabbit_! Louis almost has an actual heart attack. “But do you have the time?”

Louis just stares, his mouth hanging open. Surely he hallucinated that? He’d think he was high, except he’d run out of weed a few days ago and hadn’t been bothered to get more. And besides, weed wouldn’t ever give him hallucinations. He knows he’s stone cold sober. Maybe he’s still dreaming.

Maybe he’s losing his mind.

“Do you have the _time_?” the rabbit asks again, seeming agitated now.

Louis checks his phone, feeling completely dumbfounded. “It’s 4:45. In the morning.”

“Oh no!” cries the rabbit. “I’m late!” And then he turns and bounds under the hedges, right where the glow is brightest.

“Wait!” says Louis. “Who are you? Where are you going?” Louis has so, so, so many questions, but the rabbit’s _gone_. Almost like he disappeared through the fence behind the hedges.

Something about that is pinging at Louis’s memory, like he’s reminded of a dream he’s long forgotten. He can’t quite grasp it though, and he’s more preoccupied with the rabbit. And the state of his mental health.

What if he really had just imagined it talking? What if this really was someone’s pet rabbit? Surely Louis should find it?

He feels like he should steer clear of the eerie glow, but he’s also drawn to it, so he ignores his instincts and pulls aside the hedge to get a better look at the fence.

The fence is… shimmering. A large area of the fence is emanating the bluish greenish glow, and it’s _moving_ slightly. Louis bites his lip, his heart hammering in his chest, and then he reaches out. And his hand goes through the fence, like being submerged in water.

There’s something very familiar about it. Louis can’t put his finger on it. But he feels like it’s okay. He’s not weirded out or scared. He feels like this is safe.

He moves his hand up and down, mesmerised by the place where his arm disappears into the fence. Then he steels himself, looks around quickly just to check no one’s here to see him being mental, and then he pushes the hedges aside even further and steps forward. Through the fence.

And then he’s falling, and it’s the jolt his memory needed. White Rabbit. Wonderland. _Harry_.

It’s the dream again! He’s having the same dream.

Louis falls for what feels like forever. It’s the most unsettling feeling, like his stomach and bones and all his other organs are floating around his head. It’s also the feeling he remembers from this dream the most, as they often started this way, with him falling for what seemed like miles. He remembers how he used to wonder if he’d fall through the Earth and come out the other side; now of course he knows that’s impossible, but then again, so is falling for this long at all.

Eventually the darkness lifts, illuminated by a desk lamp sitting on a coffee table. It’s floating, just as Louis is, so he wonders how it’s working, what it’s plugged into. And then more furniture appears, a full living room floating around him. Louis falls into a comfortable lounge chair, and then he slips right out of it.

Louis almost tips completely upside down, but he regains his balance. It dawns on him then to look down, to see if he can see the white rabbit, or the ground. He can’t see either. After a moment he crosses his arms. This is actually getting boring.

Then he abruptly lands. His stomach jerks, but at least he doesn’t fall over. He seems to be in a corridor, and as he looks up he sees the rabbit right at the end, turning a corner.

Louis immediately starts off after him. It’s not so much his curiosity about a rabbit wearing human clothes, now, as it is him wanting to find Harry. The rabbit is the only one around to ask.

He follows the rabbit through lots of doors and long, twisting corridors, which seem to increase and decrease in size rapidly. It’s disconcerting, but Louis is focused on the rabbit, who always seems to be just out of his reach. Louis calls out to him, but the rabbit ignores him entirely. And Louis knows he’s not deaf, so it’s quite rude, he thinks.

Finally Louis squeezes through a tiny door which opens into a big room, and he sees the rabbit escape through an even smaller door. Louis hurries to the door and turns the knob, only to have it splutter in his hand and squeak out an ‘ouch!’

Louis drops his hand in surprise. “Oh!” he says. The door has a face, and a memory comes flooding back. He’s done this so many times. He’s too big for the door, so he drinks from a bottle that appears, which makes him small enough to enter, but the door’s locked, and the key’s out of his reach, so then he eats something that makes him grow ginormously, and then he cries and the room fills with his tears, and it’s all a confusing and upsetting mess. Louis will never catch the white rabbit if he goes through all of that again.

“You’re much too big, you know,” the door says, and Louis nods.

“Yes, I know,” he says, and a table appears beside him with a bottle marked ‘drink me’ on it. No key, though. He picks up the bottle and asks, “Where’s the key?”

“Pardon?” says the door.

“Well, you’re locked, aren’t you?” Louis says.

The door’s mouth widens into a grin. “Oh, you’re smarter than you were last time,” it says. A big golden key appears on the table.

Feeling satisfied, Louis picks up the key and jams it into the lock, twisting it and opening the door. He’s sure to shrink to the size of the key, and then he’d never be able to hold it, let alone turn it and open the door. He feels he’s outsmarted his own dream.

He takes a sip from the bottle, and sure enough, he shrinks to roughly twice the size of the key.

“Well done, you!” says the door, its voice muffled, and Louis proudly walks through.

Weightless.

 _and outside, the daylight comes, the daylight goes and_ _  
_ _weightless, affairs that weigh less than air weighs_ _  
_ _make no stairways, just stairs that go nowhere_  
_don’t dream that it’s a dream, it is what it seems_

 

As soon as he’s through, the door disappears, and Louis finds himself in a forest. He’s tiny, and everything’s huge, and it’s dark and gloomy and terrifying for a moment. And then he remembers. He’s had this dream so many times before, and even when it’s scary, it’s never scary for long. And surely Harry’s here somewhere, he has to be. So what if Louis’s half the size of the white rabbit now? He still might be able to catch up and get his help.

The trouble is, he’s no idea which way the rabbit went. There are a handful of pathways throughout the woods – Louis seems to be at a crossroads – so he shrugs and picks one, hurrying his way through it. Even if he’s lost the rabbit, surely he’ll run into someone else here he can ask for help.

As he hurries along the path, the trees become brighter, and sunshine filters in. Everything slowly becomes a more vibrant green, and Louis feels better, more confident he’s going the right way. He picks up speed, and then – then he comes to a complete stop. He’s just walked past a grotto of flowers.

They’re roughly his size, maybe a bit smaller, and they’re _singing_.

There’s roses of every colour, and daisies, lilies, daffodils, sunflowers, tulips, violets… Louis gives up trying to name them, there’s so many. He loves flowers, he really does, and he’s so taken by the way he can see little faces in their petals and the way leaves and vines make up their limbs.

They see him standing there, and abruptly stop singing all at once.

“Excuse me,” says a red rose who seems to be conducting them. “This is a _private_ rehearsal.”

“For flowers only,” chimes in a tulip. “You are not a flower.”

“I’m very sorry,” says Louis. “You’re just – you’re lovely.”

“Flatterer,” say the lilies in unison, and if Louis didn’t know better he’d say they look pleased. The violets look bashful. Louis can’t believe he’s seeing emotions in flowers.

“Well, be that as it may,” sniffs the red rose. “You’d best be on your way.”

“Wait just a moment,” says a sunflower. “Do you suppose – ”

“Oh!” cries another sunflower. “Could it be?”

“It is!” says a daffodil. “He looks so similar!”

Louis frowns. “What? What do I look like?”

The daffodils and sunflowers are in a tizzy, all chattering at once, and the daisies are asking in young-sounding voices what is going on.

“Quiet!” yells the red rose.

“Child,” a white rose calmly addresses Louis. It somehow looks very regal, glistening with dew drops. “What is your name?”

He’s not a child, for one, but he supposes maybe he seems that way to these flowers. Maybe they’re quite old. “I’m Louis,” he says.

The flowers start chattering at once again, all of them, and Louis can’t make out what they’re saying until the red rose shushes them again.

“Are you Harry’s Louis?” asks a pink tulip, and all of their faces turn to Louis in anticipation.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” says Louis, and then he remembers. He remembers afternoons spent lazing with the flowers, singing with them and talking. Harry loved the flowers. He used to say they were some of his very best friends. And they loved him – Louis remembers, they used to call him an honorary flower, and they’d let Louis sing with them as well, simply because he was a friend of Harry’s. And from their reactions now, they still do love Harry very much.

“It’s really you,” says a lily, her voice tinged with awe. “We thought you’d never come back.”

“Oh, Harry will be so pleased!” says a sunflower. “He’s missed you so!”

“Has he really?” asks Louis, feeling pleased himself. “Do any of you know where I could find him?”

“You’re going in the right direction,” says the red rose. “Keep following this path and you’ll run into Zayn. He usually knows where Harry is, and if he doesn’t, he’ll help you find him.”

Louis doesn’t remember a Zayn, but he feels so relieved. “Thank you very much,” he says.

“Anytime, Harry’s Louis,” the red rose says. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sing a song with us?”

Louis’s heart lifts at the suggestion. “I’d love to, really,” he says. “But I have to find Harry. Maybe later?”

“Yes, yes,” a mix of flowers chant.

“Bring Harry with you,” requests a violet in a quiet, shy voice.

“I will,” Louis promises. “Thank you all so much.”

♠♥♦♣

He follows the path for what feels like forever, wondering where this Zayn is. What does he look like? What _is_ he? How will Louis know when he’s found him? Maybe he’s walked past him already. Maybe he should start calling out his name.

He’s just about to when he hears a voice. A voice singing. _More singing_. Maybe it’s Zayn – or maybe it’s more flowers, and Louis can ask for some more help. Regardless, it can’t hurt to talk to whoever it is, so Louis leaves the path and follows the voice through the trees.

Shortly he finds a clearing, with a giant mushroom. And a boy. The boy is about Louis’s size – about Louis’s age, probably – and he’s gorgeous, and he’s smoking out of a pipe. A long pipe, like a hookah.

Louis remembers this mushroom. He remembers a wise but condescending caterpillar, and he remembers the smoke. He’s never seen this boy before.

The boy has his eyes closed, and he’s still singing. Louis doesn’t recognise the song, or the language, but it’s beautiful. He has a lovely voice.

“Hello?” Louis says as he tentatively steps closer, hating to interrupt him.

The boy startles, and he opens his eyes and looks at Louis. His eyes seem to focus very slowly, and that’s when the smell hits Louis. He’s ninety per cent sure the boy is smoking weed.

“Sorry,” Louis says. He hopes the boy speaks English. “But d’you know where I could find Zayn? Or Harry?”

“I’m Zayn,” says the boy warily, with a thick accent. “Who are you?”

He sounds faintly British - like he’s from Yorkshire, even - but there’s something in his accent Louis can’t place. Although, since this is a dream, it makes sense his brain would mix up a foreign accent with a Yorkshire one. Yorkshire accents are the ones he hears most, after all.

“I’m Louis,” he says. “I’m a friend of Harry’s.”

Zayn blinks and sits up straighter. “You’re Louis?” he asks, sounding awed. “I never thought I’d meet you. You’re basically an urban legend at this point.”

“Er,” Louis says, because what do you say to that? “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome,” says Zayn. “Do you want a smoke?”

Usually Louis would never turn down free weed, but this place is confusing enough right now. He really doesn’t need to be high, especially when he hasn’t found Harry yet.

“Not right now, mate, but thanks,” Louis says. “Maybe later. D’you know where Harry is? The flowers said you could help.”

“Did they?” Zayn asks, looking happier. “That was kind of them.”

“Yes,” says Louis. “So…”

“Oh! Right,” Zayn says. “I saw him a little while ago, he was with Nick… having a tea party.”

“A tea party?” That sparks something in Louis’s memory. “Like with the Mad Hatter?” He remembers the Mad Hatter. He doesn’t remember a Nick.

“Right, yeah,” Zayn says. “I can take you there. I mean, I’m meant to be guarding the mushroom, but Alan should be back any minute now.”

“Alan?” Louis asks. He doesn’t remember an Alan either.

“Yes, it’s his mushroom,” says Zayn. “You should take some before he shows up - one side makes you grow, the other makes you shrink. It could come in useful.”

Louis remembers that. The caterpillar told him. He nods and steps up to the mushroom, tearing off pieces small enough to fit in his trackie pockets.

“There you go,” says Zayn. He stands up. “Have a lick of it, it should get you to normal size.” He licks his own mushroom piece to demonstrate, and suddenly he’s about four times Louis’s height.

Louis doesn’t know which piece will do what, so he just chooses one at random and gives it a lick. Luckily, he shoots up to match Zayn’s height.

“Good job,” Zayn says with a smile. “Let me just leave a note for Alan, and then we can go.”

♠♥♦♣

It’s probably because he’s so much bigger now, but they’ve been walking for basically no time at all before they get to a little gate with a sign that says ‘TEA PARTY IN PROGRESS – INVITATION ONLY’. Zayn opens the gate, and rolls his eyes when he notices Louis looking at the sign.

“I’ve got a standing invitation, as I rarely ever come,” Zayn says. “Don’t worry about it. That’s mostly to keep out undesirables.”

“But what if I’m an undesirable?” Louis asks, and Zayn just laughs and continues down the path.

There’s a long table, covered in teacups and teapots of all shapes and sizes, and there are two men at the table, along with a huge brown rabbit. While seeing a rabbit the size of a man is incredibly disturbing, Louis finds all of this somewhat familiar; these tea parties were definitely in his dreams before. They were quite mad, though, not like any other tea party Louis’s ever heard of.

“Zayn!” cries one of the men, the one who isn’t the Mad Hatter. Louis doesn’t recognise him. “Fancy you turning up at our soiree! And you’ve brought a guest!” He leers at Louis. “Who’s this then?”

“Hello, Nick,” Zayn says. “This is Louis. Harry’s Louis.”

Nick looks stunned, and his expression sours for a second before he plasters on a grin. “Hello then! Would you like a cup of tea?”

“Yes, thanks,” Louis says. He’s not sure if he trusts this man, but he’s rather thirsty, and he’d never turn down tea at any rate.

Nick pours him a cup, and Louis notices the Mad Hatter staring at him. “Is that really you?”

Louis nods.

“Do you remember me? The tea parties we used to have?” the Mad Hatter asks, sounding wistful. “They were grand, weren’t they?”

“Yes,” Louis says, reaching for his cup. Nick’s placed it just slightly out of his reach. “I do, and they were.”

“Young Master Harry was so happy then,” the Mad Hatter continues. “I’ve tried to make him as happy since… every unbirthday… but it’s never any use.”

Louis frowns. He hates the thought of Harry being sad. And then he registers the word ‘unbirthday’ and he has to giggle. “Sorry,” he apologises. “It’s just, I’d forgotten about unbirthdays! I used to insist my mum and sisters celebrate mine, every day, they got so annoyed with me!”

Everyone at the table looks disturbed. “Whyever would they be annoyed?” The giant rabbit asks. “Unbirthdays are the most common thing in the world.”

“Well, that’s certainly true,” Louis says.

“Why, it’s my unbirthday today,” says Nick, and the Mad Hatter and the giant rabbit react with joy, adding that it’s their unbirthdays too, and they all jump up and start singing and dancing around the table.

Zayn gives Louis an unhappy look. “Why’d you have to remind them? They could be at this for hours.”

Louis frowns, and waits for a break in the song, then interrupts. “Excuse me, sorry to be a bother – but do any of you know where Harry actually is?”

They settle down, back into their seats, and Nick sighs. “No,” he says. “He was here, but he wandered off.”

Louis looks to Zayn in dismay. “What now?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I suppose we could try his favourite garden…”

“I could call for Rupert,” Nick says begrudgingly.

“Oh!” Zayn says. “Brilliant idea. Yes, do that.”

Rupert… why does that name sound familiar?

“Who’s Rupert?” Louis asks. “And how will you call him? Do you lot have phones?” Somehow, the idea of these people having mobile phones is more absurd than anything else.

“Fuh-owns?” the Mad Hatter repeats. “What is a fuh-own?”

“No, we don’t have phones here,” Zayn says. “There’s no reception.”

“Rupert is a flamingo, and he only comes to a special call,” Nick says pompously, and then he makes a very loud, very strange cooing sound.

There’s nothing for a minute, and then a loud fluttering sound, and a big pink bird lands beside Nick.

 _Rupert_. Harry’s flamingo. Louis remembers now – only, the last time he saw Rupert, he was a tiny ball of white feathers; Harry could hold him in one hand. He’d often perch on Harry’s shoulder.

Louis remembers it so vividly.

_‘You’ve got a tiny bird,’ he said in awe. It was very cute, a small head on a ball of fluff and long legs._

_‘This is Rupert,’ Harry said proudly. ‘I found him yesterday. Mum said I can keep him if I can take care of him. We don’t know where his mummy is, and I don’t want anyone using him for croquet.’_

_‘Croquet?’ Louis asked, baffled. He knew of croquet – a posh game for rich people – but he had no idea what a baby bird had to do with it._

_‘Yes, it’s not as common as it used to be,’ Harry said. ‘But people still play sometimes, and they use flamingos to hit the ball. They hold the legs and hit the ball with the head. I don’t want anyone hitting anything with Rupert’s head.’ He looked so indignant at the idea._

_Louis, meanwhile, is appalled. Surely that’s animal cruelty. ‘Good on you for rescuing him.’_

_Harry beamed. ‘I’m going to give him the best life,’ he said, scratching Rupert’s head. Rupert already looked happy. ‘I love him.’_

_‘Wait, did you say he’s a flamingo? But he’s not pink,’ Louis says, confused. ‘He can’t be a flamingo!’ Everybody knows flamingos are pink._

_Harry frowns, cradling Rupert protectively against his chest. ‘My mummy says flamingos are born white,’ he says, sounding upset. ‘They only eat pink flowers. That turns them pink.’_

_‘That sounds crazy,’ says Louis, but it’s not like anything else here has made sense. Also, he hates seeing Harry upset. He decides to roll with it. ‘I love it.’_

_Harry’s frown melts away and he smiles again. ‘Would you like to hold him?’_

“Rupert!” Louis says. “Hi, mate!”

Rupert swings around to look at him. His eyes narrow, then seem to widen with recognition. He steps over to Louis and rubs his head against Louis’s shoulder.

Louis laughs, standing up and wrapping his arms around Rupert’s neck. “S’good to see you, pal! You’re all grown up!”

He loves that his brain has conjured up an adult version of Rupert. It’s incredible. Brains are fantastic things.

“Rupert,” Nick interrupts, sounding annoyed. “We’re looking for Harry. Can you take Louis and Zayn to him?”

Rupert chirps happily, then bounds off towards the gate. Louis supposes that’s the end of the tea party. And he didn’t even get to drink his tea.

“I think you’re alright with Rupert,” Zayn says, after they’ve come back out the gate. “I should get back to the mushroom. Maybe Alan hasn’t noticed I’m gone.”

Louis smiles. “Alright, mate,” he says. “Thanks for your help.”

“No worries,” Zayn says, and then he takes off, singing as he goes. Rupert nudges Louis, as if reminding him to follow.

Dreams.

 _oh my life is changing everyday, in every possible way_ _  
_ _and oh my dreams, it's never quite as it seems_  
_'cause you're a dream to me_

 

It’s not long before Rupert leads him to a sun-soaked meadow. There’s a boy standing in the middle of it, and he appears to be shimmering in the sunlight. Louis steps closer, and the boy turns around.

“There you are!” the boy cries happily. “I heard you were here, I’ve been looking everywhere!”

Louis peers at him. He’s beautiful, with long brown curls and a glittering golden suit and bright green eyes – and shit. He looks different, but it’s Harry. It has to be. Louis would know those eyes anywhere.

“I can’t believe you came back,” the boy, Harry, says, looking enthralled.

“Harry?” Louis says. “Is that really you?”

Harry’s face lights up. “You remember me?” he asks. “Do you really?”

“Of course,” Louis says. “You were my favourite person. I can’t believe you’ve grown up.”

What he means to say, of course, is that he can’t believe his subconscious has dreamt up an adult version of Harry. He especially can't believe his brain made Harry so gorgeous. Like, he's easily the most attractive person Louis's ever seen, and he feels a tug in his gut at the realisation. He's hit with a wave of frustration and longing - it's so unfair that this beautiful person only exists in Louis's subconscious.

“That happens sometimes,” Harry's saying with a grin. “And you’ve grown too! But you’ve still got that same flabbergasted look on your face.”

Louis has to laugh. “Flabbergasted?”

“Oh yes,” Harry says. “I decided long ago that was the best way to describe your reaction to Wonderland.”

Louis laughs. “I suppose that’s true,” he says. He steps closer, because if he only gets this in a dream, he's going to make the most of it. “Do I get a hug?”

Harry’s expression brightens impossibly, and he steps closer too. “Of course,” he says, and then they collide in a hug, and it feels like coming home.

♠♥♦♣

“Can I ask you something?” Louis asks. They’re still in the meadow; Harry’s making something like a daisy chain, but with leaves, and Rupert’s sat beside him, half-asleep with his head in Harry’s lap, and Louis’s staring at Harry. His suit is getting brighter the longer they’re in the meadow; it’s like looking at the sun. Louis realises that it makes sense he's not real, he's legitimately too beautiful for reality. If it were possible for people to be as beautiful as Harry is, nobody would get anything done.

“Of course,” Harry says.

“How did you know I was here?” Louis asks. Logically, he knows that it’s a dream, so it shouldn’t be surprising that Harry was looking for him. Anything can happen in dreams, especially in his Wonderland dreams. But it’s niggling at his brain, and so he has to ask.

“The White Rabbit told me you were here,” Harry says. “We’re friends, you see.”

“Riiight,” Louis says. “He’s the reason I’m here. It’s pretty bizarre, don’t you think? A rabbit talking to people, then running off without answering any questions? Just rude.”

Harry smiles. “Well, I don’t know if it’s bizarre,” he says with a shrug. “I didn’t know it was unusual for rabbits to talk until I met you. But, I will say that running off is quite rude.”

“Thank you,” says Louis. “Why does he do that, anyway?”

Harry shrugs again. “The White Rabbit is the gatekeeper to Wonderland, as well as the messenger. He lures in those in need of help. Maybe he thought you’d be more willing to follow him if you had to chase him.”

Louis frowns. Maybe. “But how does he know who needs help?”

“Magic,” Harry answers with a smile.

Louis scoffs. “Yeah, okay. How does he really know?”

“It’s magic, Lou,” Harry says earnestly. “Wonderland knows when someone is in need, and the White Rabbit lures them here. I know that sounds sinister, but that’s how it works. And it’s by magic. Wonderland is magic, and so are most of the inhabitants.”

“Right,” Louis says. “But magic isn’t real, though.”

“Yes it is,” Harry says, his eyes and his hair and his suit sparkling. “If you truly believe in your heart that magic is real, it will work for you too.”

“Really,” Louis says, trying not to sound sceptical.

“Well, that and lots of training,” Harry says. “I’ve been doing it all my life and I’m still only best at small things, like – ” he picks up a leaf and it turns into a yellow rose. “Like that. They’re mostly flower-based.”

Louis knows his eyes are wide. It’s just – he just saw Harry transform a fucking leaf into a flower.

“Wow,” he says. “This is a pretty crazy dream.”

Harry frowns. “Dream?” he asks. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I’m dreaming, obviously,” Louis says. “I used to have these dreams when I was a kid – only you were a kid too. And there are some people here I don’t remember. But otherwise – I mean, this place is simply too mad to be real. You just turned a leaf into a flower!”

“But I told you,” Harry says, still frowning. “Magic is real.”

“Yes,” Louis says. “As this is a dream.”

“It isn’t,” Harry insists. “Wonderland is a real place. It simply exists outside of the reality you’re used to. That’s why it seems like too much to you – because it is.”

“I don’t understand,” Louis says. And he doesn’t believe it. He believes that Harry believes what he’s saying – Louis is sure Harry would never lie to him – but there’s no way this isn’t a dream. Harry just doesn’t know that.

“Wonderland exists outside of time and space. Or at least, outside of your concept of it. That’s why it doesn’t follow the same rules. And it appears to those who are struggling in reality, those who need a break for the good of their health. They can then choose to stay, which is what my mum did. Basically, Wonderland can be paradise, if you want it to be.”

Louis bites his lip. “The thing is,” he says. “You’d say that in a dream, too, wouldn’t you?”

Harry sighs. “I don’t know how to prove it to you,” he says. “But that’s why there are so many people here you don’t know. Zayn and Nick – they showed up after you stopped coming back.”

“And why did I stop, then?” Louis says. “I didn’t make that choice, I don’t think. I tried to find a way back.”

Because, shit. He _remembers_ now. He remembers staring out his window every night, staying awake as late as he could, waiting for the eerie bluey green glow.

“You must not have needed it anymore,” Harry says. “My mum said maybe that’s what it’s like for children. Your subconscious makes the decision. We’re not sure, though – it’s really rare for Wonderland to appear to children.”

Louis frowns. “What else did your mum say?”

“Well,” Harry says. “She said you might come back, as Wonderland had appeared to you before. She talked about something called ‘depression’, which apparently people can be predisposed to, and those people can have ‘episodes’, and that’s when Wonderland appeared to them. She said that’s how a lot of people get to Wonderland.”

Louis thinks it’s funny, the way Harry’s talking about depression, like it’s some abstract concept. “I don’t think I have depression.”

Harry makes a face. “Well, what was happening when you came here before? When you were a kid? You told me your parents were fighting.”

“That’s right,” Louis says. “I just wanted to get out. I didn’t want to be there anymore.”

“And just now? What’s happening now?”

“I hate my life,” Louis says. He looks away, unable to stand the sympathy on Harry’s face. “I have no one, and I just got fired. I just – didn’t want to be me anymore. Didn’t want to exist.”

Harry makes a small noise, and then says sadly, “That sounds like depression to me.”

Louis thinks there’s more to depression than just having a few bad moments, but he doesn’t want to argue the point with Harry, who probably doesn’t even understand the concept. “How did your mum get here?” he asks, changing the subject.

“My dad passed away when she was pregnant with me,” Harry says. “And after I was born, my mum met this other man. She fell in love with him quickly, but by the time I was two years old, he was abusing her badly. She had to get out, for all of our safety, but she had nowhere to go. And then Wonderland appeared to her, and she brought me and Gemma with her, and she decided to stay.”

“Huh,” Louis says. Harry said all of that so matter of factly, like it didn’t affect him. The same way he talked about depression. Louis wonders if living here all of his life has dampened his ability to even imagine terrible things. Then something else occurs to him. “So your mum just… disappeared? With two kids? Didn’t anyone go looking for you?”

Harry shrugs. “Probably, but. I think they just thought she escaped that man and started a new life.”

“Right,” Louis says. “But you’re saying that a heap of people literally just disappear. Like, they end up here, but nobody in the real world knows that. If that was true, I’d’ve heard about it. It’s almost an epidemic.”

“You’re saying people don’t just disappear back where you’re from? People don’t go missing?”

“Well…”

“My mum says it makes sense,” Harry says. “There are so many missing people the, um, the police? Just can’t find. It’s because they’re here.”

Louis hums. He still can’t wrap his head around it, and he’s still convinced he’s dreaming.

But he likes the way Harry argues with him. Self-assured but not mean about it, like he knows he's right, but he doesn't attack, doesn't get heated up like Louis knows he can himself. Harry just says 'this is what I believe' and presents you with what he knows, and if you disagree with him, he cheerfully tells you you're wrong. Louis's very endeared.

“I know!” Harry says, lighting up. “Can you think of anyone who’s gone missing, that you’ve seen on the news or something? Just, if you know their name or what they look like? Anyone?”

Louis stops to think about it. He’s not sure if he can remember any names, but then someone pops into his head. “Yes,” he says. “Liam Payne. He lived a few hours away from me, and he went missing when I was eighteen. He was seventeen. It was big news, and he’d tried out for The X Factor the year before so they had all this footage of him. They talked about him on the telly nonstop for almost a year.”

Harry’s eyes are shining, and he’s barely concealing his smile. “Rupert, go and fetch Liam, please.”

Rupert flies off, and Louis gapes at Harry. “You can’t be serious. There’s no way Liam Payne is here.”

“Yes, we’re good friends, actually,” Harry says. Louis stares at him.

“Then obviously I’m dreaming,” he says, although he’s not sure he believes that. “It’s way too much of a coincidence.”

“No it isn’t,” Harry says. “I think lots of missing people have ended up here.”

Rupert arrives with Liam – _the_ Liam, Liam Payne, who looks older but unequivocally is the same Liam whose face was all over Louis’s telly and Facebook. He says cheerfully, “Hello Harry! Oh, who’s this?”

“This is Louis,” Harry says, sounding almost proud.

Liam’s mouth drops open and he looks as stunned as Louis feels. “Really? Your Louis? He came back?”

“He did,” Harry says happily.

“Pleasure to meet you, mate,” Liam says, hopping over and shaking Louis’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Louis can’t quite reply. He’s in a bit of shock.

“Pardon him, he remembers you from when you went missing,” Harry explains.

“What, really?” Liam asks. “Did you go to my school or something?”

“No,” Louis says, finally remembering how to talk. “No, you were everywhere. You became proper famous. They tried to find you for ages.”

“Oh,” Liam’s face drops. “I didn’t know it was that big a deal.”

“You were everywhere,” Louis reiterates. “Simon bloody Cowell was on the news, hoping for your safe return. Seemed like a grab for publicity, mind you.”

“He was?” Liam asks, looking awed and also kind of bitter. Louis gets that; Simon hadn’t felt very genuine at the time, Louis felt like he was just a bloody vulture. “How’s he doing now, old Simon?”

“He had a massive heart attack last year,” Louis says. “He died.”

Liam looks even more shocked. “Did he really? You know, he scared me quite a bit. The stuff they make you sign before you can even go on the X Factor is intense.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Louis says.

Harry makes a ‘harrumph’ noise, probably because he has no clue what they’re talking about, which makes Louis giggle. Harry looks grumpy and it’s so endearing.

“Tell Louis how you got here,” Harry says.

“Right, well,” Liam says. “I’d been rejected off the X Factor, which you know. I was bullied badly before that, and it got worse afterwards. I was just very sad and alone and tired of my life. And then I fell down a rabbithole and I wound up here. And it was so much better that I chose to stay.” He bites his lip. “Did you ever see my parents on the news?”

Louis’s heart sinks, because he did. He remembers Liam’s mum, her endless crying, and his dad’s impassioned pleas for any information. He doesn’t know what to say. “I did,” he says.

Liam nods. “Right. Don’t tell me.”

“It’s been seven years,” Louis says, hoping that will help.

“I thought it was my best option. I didn’t even think about them,” Liam sighs. “It was very selfish.”

“You were seventeen and you wanted to die,” Harry says firmly. “I’m sure they’d rather you were happy and alive, even if you’re not with them.”

It sounds like a conversation they’ve had before, and now Louis feels like an outsider.

“Do you still think you’re dreaming?” Harry asks Louis.

“Well,” he says. “Kind of, yes? As it’s not like my subconscious couldn’t imagine this up.” He gestures to Liam.

“I went through that too,” Liam says. “Thought I was dreaming for ages. Someone said something that got me out of it.”

“What was that?” Louis asks.

“He asked if I could remember any time jumps. Like, things change quickly here, but not as quickly as they do in dreams. You don’t lose time like you do in dreams, not really. Can you remember everything you’ve done, how you got here?”

Louis thinks back, back through finding Harry, the tea party, meeting Zayn, talking with the flowers, outsmarting the door, following the rabbit, falling through the Earth, the glowing fence, being in his bedroom. Everything has a linear pattern. He’s not missing any time.

It’s a fucking valid point.

“Shit,” he says. “I might not be dreaming.”

♠♥♦♣

Liam’s left, and Harry’s leading Louis back to his place, because Louis is keen to meet his mum and sister again. He remembers them vaguely, and now that he thinks they’re real people and not figments of his imagination, he’s excited.

Harry stops, and reaches out a hand to stop Louis too. “There’s something you ought to know, before we go any further,” he says. “Come on, let’s sit.”

Louis’s a bit concerned, but he follows Harry over to a beech tree. When Harry sits, a blue ladybug immediately crawls up onto his hand. Harry’s distracted by it for a minute.

“Harry? What’s wrong?” Louis has to ask.

“Oh, sorry,” Harry says, giving him an apologetic smile. The ladybug flies up and settles in his hair. “Right. So. I’m not sure if you remember – you probably don’t.”

“Remember what?”

“Well, my mum – she’s actually the Queen? The Queen of Wonderland, I mean.” Harry looks nervous, like he’s unsure of how Louis will react to this news. Like he’s worried Louis will react badly.

Louis’s mostly just surprised. “Wow,” he says. He hadn’t thought about royalty at all here, although now that Harry mentions it – he does remember something about a Queen. Faintly remembers being in a castle. “You – oh, you lived in a castle, didn’t you? When we were kids?”

“Yes,” Harry says, smiling a bit. “Well, I still do. You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. “And we’d dress up in Gemma’s fancy dresses.”

“That’s right,” says Harry, smiling wider now. “So, are you – it doesn’t – does this change your opinion of me?”

“What?” Louis’s confused. “Why would it? You’re still the same person.”

Harry visibly relaxes. “I am,” he says. “Sometimes people treat me differently. Not often, but it’s happened.”

“That’s silly,” Louis says, and then it fully dawns on him. “So, like. You’re – you’re really a prince? _The_ prince?”

“Yes,” Harry says, waving his hand like it’s not important. Like he’s not _royalty_. “But I’ll likely never actually rule. Gemma will be Queen. I just get all of the privileges, none of the responsibility.” He shrugs. “Mum says that it’s different where you’re from, though.”

“Oh,” Louis says, surprised Harry knows this. It feels like Harry knows a lot about Louis’s world. Like he’s asked his mum a lot of questions. “Yeah. Yeah, back home, women only take the throne if there aren’t any men in the family.”

“Mm,” Harry hums with a nod. “We have a, um – a matriarchal society. Women rule here. Even if I were first-born, the crown would skip over me and go to Gemma.”

“So it’s like the opposite,” Louis muses. It’s interesting. He can’t say he doesn’t approve, even if he’s never particularly cared about the monarchy. “It’s not like that at all, at home. They’ve only barely stopped treating women like second class citizens.”

Harry frowns. “Really? But why?”

It’s like he’s never even considered that men and women should be anything but equals – or even, that he assumes men should be lesser than women. Louis finds it refreshing.

“I don’t know, it goes back thousands of years,” Louis says, struggling with what to say that isn’t a history lesson. “I don’t think it was always like that, not everywhere? But I guess when the world started developing, some men got a lot of power and this social opinion formed that women shouldn’t be doing anything, that they should be looking after the children?”

“But what if they didn’t want to have children?” Harry asks, looking baffled. Louis really doesn’t think he’s explaining this right, and it doesn’t help that the more he thinks about it, the less sense it makes even to him.

“I don’t think they had much of a choice,” Louis says. “Like, it was either get a husband and have kids, or starve, as they weren’t really allowed to work for themselves?”

Harry’s persistent frown is very cute. Louis wants to smooth out the crease between his eyebrows. “But that’s not right,” he says.

“I know,” Louis says. “So, maybe a hundred or so years ago, women started fighting for change. And we’ve gotten a lot better, but a lot of men still treat women badly. And it’s, like, influenced social opinion still? That’s still only improving.”

“Right,” Harry says, still frowning. “That’s – it’s strange, to me, as we don’t – obviously we don’t treat women like that, but we don’t treat men like that either? Like, women are just seen as more capable, because physically their bodies go through a lot more natural stress than men’s? So that’s why they’re seen as better leaders, but… that’s it. Everyone’s more or less the same.”

There’s something in there – something about women’s physical bodies – that makes Louis wonder about trans people, if they exist in Wonderland, what the gender politics are like here. He feels like he might just confuse Harry further by asking, though, so instead he says, “Really? So you have equality between everyone here? No matter what gender or race they are?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry says. “Wait – race? Do you mean species?”

Louis frowns. “I mean, like, we’re white. We have white skin. Other people are black, or Asian, or brown… Some people don’t like others who are different.”

“Oh,” Harry says, blinking rapidly. He looks like he’s struggling to understand. “Goodness, why would that ever be an issue? People are just people.”

Louis breathes out a sigh. “Wow, Harry, don’t ever leave Wonderland. I don’t think you’d handle it well.”

“Yes,” Harry agrees. “Your world sounds horrifying.“

Louis winces. It is a bit. Fucking Donald Trump is the US President and fucking Theresa May is the PM. If Harry’s right, his world is absolute bloody shit compared to Wonderland.

“I think our main issue here is class inequality,” Harry says. “I notice it a lot, I think as technically I’m royalty, but I’m able to go amongst everyone? More than Gemma is, anyway. Does that make sense?”

“So you really see the difference,” Louis says. “Yeah.”

“Yes, so, it’s money,” Harry says. “My mum wants to do away with it, with class structures, she wants everyone to have basically the same income and standing. But there are a lot of unhappy ladies and lords who are opposing her on it.”

“So basically your mum’s a socialist,” Louis says. “Or a communist.”

Harry shrugs. “If you say so. I haven’t heard those words before.”

Louis smiles. It’s funny to talk to someone who doesn’t think communism is a dirty word. Louis’s not opposed to socialism at all himself. “Well, it makes sense if you’re equal in every other way.”

Harry beams. “I think so too,” he says. Then his face drops. “The Red Queen doesn’t. She thinks we need a class structure to function as a society.”

“The Red Queen?” Louis asks, confused. “I thought your mum was Queen.”

“She is,” Harry says. “The Red Queen is… well, she’s a descendant of the original Red Queen.”

Louis bites his lip and tries to remember if he has any idea what Harry’s talking about. Nope. “Sorry mate, not a clue what you’re saying.”

“Right,” Harry says. “Yes.” He shuffles a bit, getting comfortable. “Do you want the whole story?”

“Yes please,” says Louis, wiggling around to get comfy himself. “Tell me the story.”

As he says that, he feels the spark of a memory from before, from his childhood with Harry, but he can’t focus on it now. Harry’s talking.

“Alright. So, long ago, there were two sisters. I don’t remember their names; it’s not important. The Red Queen, the elder sister, was mad – much more than anybody here – she was a tyrant. Some people call her The Mad Queen. And she ruled, until a girl named Alice chased the White Rabbit to Wonderland and met the Queen and her sister, and they overthrew the Red Queen and forced her into exile. And so her sister, the White Queen, ruled. And she was fair and gentle and kind. And now, when people come to Wonderland, they are screened by our Royal Geneticist, who determines whether or not they’re descendants of either Queen. When my mum came here, they’d actually been without a Queen for two years. Wonderland was in mourning, and when my mum was tested and found to be a descendent of the White Queen, the people rejoiced. Taylor – that is, the girl who’s calling herself the Red Queen – she showed up here five years ago. She was told who her ancestor was, and she’s been determined to take the crown for herself ever since. It’s only recently that people have begun to follow her, and I think it’s because Mum is pushing for wealth reform. The ladies and lords who disagree are deflecting to Taylor.”

“But,” Louis says, still taking everything in. “There wouldn’t be many of them, surely? Compared to all of Wonderland?”

“No, there isn’t,” Harry says. “But it’s enough. Before, she just had a small group of friends. Now, she has actual followers. She has her own castle, just outside our kingdom. She’s not much of a threat, but she’s more now than she ever was.”

“I see,” Louis says. “Is your mum worried?”

Harry thinks about that for a moment. “I don’t think so, not yet,” he says. “But she’s certainly not happy about it.”

Louis vows to himself, right there, that if it’s ever needed, he’ll help Harry and his family. They seem like better people than this Taylor person.

♠♥♦♣

It’s weird, being in the palace. It feels vaguely familiar, like the déjà vu that’s followed Louis ever since he saw the white rabbit, but stronger. He feels like he and Harry used to spend a lot of time here.

It’s still so weird, thinking of his childhood dreams as memories. That they really happened. For so long, he’s remembered Wonderland and Harry with this detached sort of longing – like, it mattered to him so much as a kid that he vaguely remembered it, but it was never _real_. And now, apparently, it is. He can’t quite wrap his head around it.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks. “You look spooked.”

“Yeah, I’m – yeah,” Louis says. “Where’s your mum? Or your sister?”

“My mum is probably in the drawing room,” Harry says, nodding towards a hallway. “This way.”

Louis follows Harry, focusing on the shifting fabric in front of him instead of his gnawing nerves about meeting Harry’s mum again. Harry’s suit is a rose gold colour now, not golden like it was earlier, and it’s glittering, but there’s no glitter or sequins in sight. It’s shimmering all on its own, like someone’s sewn actual stars into the material. Magic, it’s got to be. Clothes don’t just look like that.

Harry’s suit is a good distraction, at any rate, because they’re in front of Harry’s mum before Louis has time to process it. And he _knows_ it’s Harry’s mum. She’s beautiful, like him, and she’s looking at Harry like he’s something precious – which he is, obviously – but that’s not why Louis knows who she is. He recognises her. As soon as he sees her, memories flash through his mind like a film reel, and he knows that he knows her.

And she hasn’t aged a day, as far as he can tell.

“Mum,” says Harry. “Louis came back.” His voice breaks, he’s clearly emotional, and it tugs at Louis’s heart. He can’t believe how much Harry cares for him. How important he obviously was, for Harry to still care all these years later.

Harry’s mum’s mouth has dropped open, although she doesn’t look as surprised as Louis expected. She gracefully stands, her long, billowing white dress swishing around her, and she steps towards Louis.

“I hoped this day would come,” she says. “I didn’t think it would be so soon.” She’s close now, and she cups Louis’s face in her hands, staring at him as if she’s not sure he’s real. Louis gets this intense motherly energy off of her, and it makes him long for his own mum, but it also completely puts him at ease.

“It’s been sixteen years,” Harry mutters, sounding grumpy. “I think that’s long enough.”

His mum doesn’t react, and Louis realises he’s yet to greet her. Great. What a good impression he’s making.

“It’s good to see you again, your Majesty,” he says, and the Queen smiles and drops her hands.

“Call me Anne, my darling,” she says. “And it’s very good to see you as well. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Harry pipes up, and Anne gives him an indulgent smile.

Then she sobers, looking back at Louis with a sombre expression. “Although – and you needn’t talk about it, if you’d prefer – but it pains me to think of why you might be here. I’m so sorry for your hardships, sweetheart.”

She’s so genuine, and she comes across as incredibly wise and loving. Louis understands why she’s the Queen.

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she can tell how much he means it.

Anne smiles at him, and there’s a great depth of understanding in her eyes, like the entirety of his life is mapped out before her, like she feels what he feels and sees what he sees. It’s an overwhelming feeling to have about someone he’s just met, but Louis feels comforted by it all the same.

“Well!” Anne says. “I daresay it’s time for tea!”

Louis smiles; he’s been craving tea ever since that absurd tea party, where he hadn’t had a chance to drink his own. Anne rings a little bell, and a tea table zooms into the room of its own accord, laid out with cups and saucers, milk and sugar, biscuits and a teapot. The teapot levitates in the air and pours out tea. By itself.

Louis’s sure his eyes are the size of the moon, but he can’t stop staring. He’d expected servants. He hadn’t expected a scene out of Beauty and the fucking Beast.

Harry starts giggling. “Sorry,” he says. “Maybe we should’ve warned you.”

“This is – ” Louis starts. “It’s just – I can’t – “ he can’t get his thoughts together, so preoccupied with the teapot pouring tea.

Anne chuckles as well. “Sorry, love,” she says. “Didn’t realise you wouldn’t quite be expecting this.”

“Well – no,” Louis says. “I mean. You’re the Queen? I expected servants?”

Anne wrinkles her nose.

“Mum doesn’t like the idea of people waiting on us,” Harry says. “She says it dehumanises them.”

“We did have servants when we first came here,” Anne says. “It was the done thing. But then I was introduced to all the magic of Wonderland, and it felt wrong to be exploiting people instead of magic. And back home, before we left, Disney had released Beauty and the Beast.” She laughs. “My kids were obsessed, they watched it nonstop. I suppose an enchanted castle was fresh in my mind.”

Louis loves it, now that he’s used to the idea. “What about those people, though? Like, that was their job, so…?”

“We found them better jobs,” Anne says. “And they were given a choice. Some people wanted to stay here, so we have a chef and a gardener and so on. We just don’t have maids.”

Louis nods. “That’s pretty cool.”

Anne smiles. “Thank you,” she says. “Now, how do you take your tea?”

♠♥♦♣

By the time their tea has been drunk and the biscuits have been eaten, Louis’s started to feel more settled. Anne’s been telling him stories about Wonderland and about Harry growing up, which is bittersweet, since Louis kind of wishes he’d been around for it – but secondhand is alright too. He enjoys the love and fondness in the way Anne talks about Harry, and how Harry squirms when he’s embarrassed.

So Louis’s feeling more at peace. He’s starting to come to terms with this being real, with actually being in another dimension. A reality where magic exists and Harry isn’t a figment of his imagination. And then a girl appears in the room, out of thin air.

Louis almost has a heart attack.

“Harry! I was in the garden with Niall and Cheshire Cat, and Liam popped in and said – oh, you’re him, aren’t you?” Her attention swings so quickly from Harry to Louis that Louis’s startled, and he’s still not over her fucking appearing out of nowhere.

“I’m sorry, but _what_?” he asks. “How did you _do_ that?”

“Oh Lou, I didn’t think to tell you,” Harry says. “Teleportation is very common here.”

“Technology advancements are slow, but magic takes care of most of our needs,” Anne explains. “Once you’ve been in Wonderland for a while, you start to develop certain abilities. Generally it’s basic stuff, like teleportation, and then, if people work on it, their abilities specialise. Like Harry here is more in tune with flowers and nature, whereas my own abilities align more with clairvoyance.”

“So,” Harry says. “This is my sister Gemma.”

Louis lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding, and then he properly looks at Gemma. He’s not sure if he recognises her or if she just looks a lot like Anne and Harry. She has pure white hair now, whereas they’re both brunette, so it makes sense that he didn’t realise right away.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello,” Gemma says cheerfully, taking a seat beside Harry. “Lovely to see you again. I’m in a bit of disbelief over it, really.”

“You and me both,” Louis says, and yeah. He does remember Gemma.

_‘Are you sure this is okay?’ Louis asked, as Harry threw shimmering dress after dress out of the wardrobe and onto Gemma’s bed._

_‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘Probably. Well, I don’t know, but I don’t care! Gemma always gets the prettiest dresses and I get boring shorts and shirts.’_

_Louis hadn’t ever met any boys who wanted to wear dresses. Or, if they did, they didn’t talk about it. He found Harry’s clear love of them interesting. ‘They’re definitely pretty,’ he said._

_And they were. There was a dress for every colour in existence, Louis was pretty sure, and they sparkled like the stars. Louis had never seen anything like it; his mum had fancy dresses, some with shiny fabric and sequins, but not like this. Gemma’s dresses were otherworldly._

_‘She doesn’t even appreciate them,’ Harry was grumbling as he pulled off his shirt. ‘She’s forever complaining about dressing like a princess. She doesn’t understand that it’s the best.’_

_Then Harry was standing in his pants, staring at the array of dresses in front of him._

_‘Can you choose for me, please, Lou?’ he asked, his eyes big and hopeful. ‘I can’t pick.’_

_Louis nodded, and he took his decision very seriously. It took him a few moments, but finally he found a green dress that he thought suit Harry. To call it ‘green’ was wildly underselling it; it was an ever-changing spectrum of shades of green. The shades rippled across the dress, like a deep green sea or rolling hills. It matched Harry’s eyes, Louis thought._

_‘This one,’ he said, holding it in front of Harry._

_Harry beamed and pulled it over his head. It was too big for him, of course; Gemma was three years older, so it hung loosely off his shoulders, but Harry was smiling so happily it may as well have fit perfectly._

_‘You should wear that one,’ Harry said, pointing out a blue dress that matched his own almost identically._

_‘Alright,’ Louis said, taking off his shirt and pulling the dress on over his jeans. It fit him slightly better than Harry’s did, as he was closer to Gemma’s size, but it still didn’t sit right._

_‘You look beautiful,’ Harry said seriously, his eyes shining. ‘C’mon, let’s look in the mirror.’_

_He dragged Louis over to Gemma’s floor-length mirror, and they studied themselves. They looked a bit silly, Louis thought, but Harry was so happy that it didn’t matter. His happiness was contagious, and it made him look even more beautiful._

_‘You look lovely,’ Louis told Harry. ‘It really suits you.’_

_Harry cheeks pinkened and he smiled wide. Then he pounced on Louis in a giant hug. ‘Thank you,’ he said, sounding emotional. ‘You look lovely too.’_

_Louis ran his hand through Harry’s hair, trying to be comforting. He was so fond of this boy, he thought his chest could burst with it. To distract himself, he cast his eyes around, and saw a large box sticking out of Gemma’s wardrobe._

_‘Oi,’ he said. ‘What’s that?’_

_Harry pulled away and stepped back, and he wiped a hand over his face before he looked where Louis was pointing. It made Louis want to pull him in for another cuddle._

_‘Oh,’ Harry said. ‘That’s Gemma’s accessories, and I think dress-up things as well.’_

_‘Well, we do need accessories, Prince Harry,’ Louis said pompously, then he held up his skirt so he wouldn’t trip on it and walked over to open the box._

_The first thing he saw was a pink feather boa, and he put it on, delighted. Harry made a weird noise, and when Louis looked at him, he looked horrified._

_‘Pink feathers,’ Harry said, his fingers pressed to his face. ‘Someone killed a flamingo and turned them into a scarf?’ He abruptly burst into tears. ‘What if it was Rupert’s family? What if someone wants to kill Rupert to make a scarf?’_

_Louis quickly took off the boa and rushed over to comfort Harry. He wrapped Harry up in his arms and rubbed his back. ‘Hey, no, no, it’s okay,’ he said. He didn’t know what feather boas were made of, especially not in Wonderland, but he didn’t think people were killing off birds for one of the silliest fashion items he knew of. ‘That’s not it, nobody kills flamingos.’_

_Harry looked up at him, his face blotchy and streaked with tears. ‘Really?’ he said. ‘How do you know?’_

_‘Because I’m eight and I know things,’ Louis said, trying to sound as smart as possible. ‘Flamingos shed their feathers, don’t they?’_

_Harry nodded._

_‘So, then they just donate their feathers, as they want to contribute to fashion,’ Louis said. ‘Look at how pretty it is! I promise it’s not a murdered flamingo.’_

_Harry was breathing almost normally, and he swallowed. ‘That... makes sense,’ he said. ‘Otherwise their feathers would go to waste.’_

_‘Exactly,’ Louis said. He let go of Harry and walked over to the bed, picking the feather boa up. Then he draped it around Harry’s neck. ‘And it suits you too. You look just like Rupert.’_

_Harry giggled, and then someone let out a cry from the doorway. Louis’s head snapped over to see Gemma, her hands on her hips._

_‘What do you little gremlins think you’re doing?!’ she cried. ‘I hope you’re prepared to tidy all this up, Harry Edward Styles!’_

_Harry sniffed. ‘S’a small price to pay to look this fabulous,’ he said, and Louis collapsed into laughter._

“We used to wear your dresses,” Louis says to Gemma, and she lets out a surprised laugh.

“Yeah, you did,” she says. “I think Harry wore that one green dress for a month afterwards. Couldn’t get it off him.”

“It made me feel pretty,” Harry sniffs, sounding exactly like he does in Louis’s memories.

Louis wants to tell him he’s never needed a dress to be pretty. Instead, he takes in Harry’s shimmering suit, which is a deep blush pink now, and says, “At least you don’t have to wear your boring shirts and shorts anymore.”

A smile spreads across Harry’s face. “No,” he says. “Now I’m the one dressing like a princess.”

♠♥♦♣

“So,” Louis says later, after Harry’s taken him on a tour of the palace, while they’re walking around the gardens. “I have a question about something Gemma said earlier.”

Harry frowns. “Okay,” he says.

“She said she was with someone called Cheshire Cat – who is that? Why does it sound familiar?”

“Oh,” Harry says, smiling like he didn’t expect that. Louis wonders what he did expect. “Um. I think it might be easier to show you?”

“Okay then,” Louis says, slightly confused.

“Cheshire Cat!” Harry calls, which Louis finds a bit strange, until… is that a _purple tail_ , floating in the air beside a rose bush?

“Harry,” he says. “Do you see that?”

“It’s rude to point,” says a stuffy voice. Louis starts.

“Alright then, disembodied voice,” Louis says. “Pretty sure it’s rude to float about without introducing yourself.”

“But we’ve already met,” says the voice, and if Louis didn’t know better he’d say it was pouty.

“Chesh,” Harry says warningly. “C’mon, be nice.”

The voice sighs. “But where’s the fun in that?” it asks, and then two legs join the tail. They’re cat legs, and they’re purple with pink stripes. Louis doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more bizarre.

Then two more legs materialise, and a body, and a huge glowing smile. Louis has another strong case of déjà vu – he knows he’s been freaked out by this before. And then the cat has a head, and it’s grinning, looking extremely pleased with itself.

“Well, well, well,” it says. “Look who’s come back.”

“Louis, this is the Cheshire Cat,” Harry says. “He’s probably as old as Wonderland itself.”

“It’s impolite to talk about someone’s age,” the cat says, although he doesn’t seem all that bothered.

“I’m not sure what exactly is the weirdest thing about you,” Louis says honestly. “The floating, the slow dematerialisation, the fact that you’re pink and purple and _talking_ , or that you can grin. I didn’t know cats could grin. I didn’t know cats could do any of that.”

“All of the cats you’ve ever met must have been dreadfully boring,” says the cat.

“We’ve had this discussion before,” says Harry, looking amused, and he’s right. They have.

_‘S _’_ just so weird,’ Louis said. The cat was long gone, and he still wasn’t over it. ‘Cats don’t smile like that. It was just freaky.’ _

_‘Cheshire Cats do,’ Harry said. ‘Do you want to know something?’_

_Louis nodded eagerly. He wanted to know everything Harry wanted to tell him._

_Harry smiled bashfully. ‘My mum calls me her little cheshire cat. We actually came from a place named Cheshire, and also, she says I have the nicest smile.’_

_Without even thinking about it, Louis knew that made sense. ‘You do have the nicest smile,’ he said, and Harry’s smile widened. ‘But you won’t disappear like he does, will you?’_

_He was sort of joking, but he sort of wasn’t, so he was pleased when Harry said, very seriously, ‘No. I won’t.’_

Rainbow.

 _I'd forgot how to daydream_ _  
_ _so consumed with the wrong things, but in_ _  
_ _the dark, I realized this life is short_ _  
_ _and deep down, I'm still a child_ _  
_ _playful eyes, wide and wild, I can't lose hope_  
_what's left of my heart's still made of gold_

 

Once night falls, enough time has passed that Louis is now almost certain that he isn’t dreaming. If he is, it’s the longest dream he’s ever had.

“Do you remember my favourite garden?” Harry asks.

It sounds familiar, but all Louis can think of is twinkling lights around a gazebo and the smell of roses.

“I waited to show you, as I think it’s best at night,” Harry says. “D’you want to go there?”

Louis nods. “’Course,” he says.

Harry leads the way, through the dimly lit gardens and through a door in what looks like a hedge maze. It isn’t, though, instead, it opens into the most beautiful garden Louis’s ever seen. He remembers it in the daylight, remembers they’d just read The Secret Garden at school and he’d been heavily reminded of it, this secret garden tucked away behind the palace.

There’s a white gazebo in the middle, adorned with tons of little fairy lights, which gives the whole garden a sort of ethereal glow. And then there are the flowers. The scent hits Louis instantly, and they’ve already been walking through the garden – but it’s so much stronger here. There’s so many roses.

“It’s beautiful,” Louis says, because it is. It’s breath-taking.

“Stay quiet,” Harry whispers. “The flowers are sleeping.”

He takes Louis’s hand, and instead of leading him to the gazebo, he pulls him to a grassy patch. Then he flops down onto his back, pulling Louis down with him.

After an entirely graceless landing, Louis spreads out beside Harry and gives him an unimpressed look. “Why’d you do that for?”

“Knew you’d like to look at the stars,” Harry says, tilting his chin upwards.

Louis looks up, and his breath catches in his throat. If he thought the garden was breath-taking, it’s nothing compared to the sky.

Louis drops onto his back and stares. He feels like he can see the entire galaxy. The stars are so bright, and there’s so many of them. There are wispy clouds floating around, and spirals of stars, and the moon is literally holographic, but the craziest part is the rainbow glow across the sky.

Louis has taken acid before. He’s always loved the stars, so he’s taken acid and he’s watched the sky, and it was an incredible experience. This is like that, but times a thousand, and it’s real. It’s not just his brain – that’s really what the sky looks like.

“Does it look like that every night?” he asks, in awe.

“Yep,” Harry says. “I’m so used to it, it’s all I’ve ever known. But Mum says it’s different where you’re from.”

“So different,” Louis breathes. The clouds are ever-changing shapes, a pattern of birds, and then flowers, and then bunnies, a sheet of them across the sky. And the stars seem to be moving also, at least some of them, but it’s the colours that really get to Louis. He remembers something from science in college, about white light hitting a prism and refracted into a rainbow. It’s like there’s a prism in front of each and every star.

“I knew you’d love it,” Harry says softly, and Louis looks at him.

The sky is a fucking kaleidoscope, but Harry’s watching him, as if he could ever hope to be half as phenomenal.

♠♥♦♣

Louis’s not sure what time it is when he starts to feel sleepy. Time seems to run slower here, and he’s checked his phone, but while it’s still working, the clock is malfunctioning. But he yawns, and Harry asks if he’s ready for bed.

“Where am I sleeping, though?” Louis hadn’t really thought about that. Where’s he going to stay? He doesn’t want to assume he can stay in the palace with Harry, but he doesn’t know where else he can go.

He thought this was a dream. He didn’t think he’d _need_ to find a place to stay.

“Here, of course,” Harry says with a frown. “Unless you don’t want to…”

Louis smiles. “Where else would I go?” he asks, then, more seriously, “I want to stay with you, Harry.”

Harry brightens. “Good,” he says. “C’mon, let’s go inside. I’ll find you a room.”

♠♥♦♣

When Louis opens his eyes, he’s immediately disoriented. He’s not in his bedroom, first of all, but he’s not in a room he even recognises. He’s never woken up anywhere like this before, not even on his wildest nights out. The room is huge and ornately decorated, like something out of a Victorian manor, and the bed he’s in is close to double the size of his normal bed. He’s positively swimming in the soft white sheets.

He’s confused for a moment, and he sits up, taking in the room. All the furnishings are expensive-looking, a shining gold and crisp white, and everything is so… vibrant. There’s an energy along the walls and in the air, something not quite there but not quite normal either.

Louis wonders if he’s still dreaming for a second, then he realises. He’s in Wonderland. In Harry’s castle. In the room where he fell asleep last night. There’s sunlight streaming in the window, so it has to be daytime, which means he’s probably been in Wonderland for over twenty-four hours, depending on how time actually works here. It _feels_ like twenty-four hours. He’s never dreamt for so long before - he’s never fallen asleep in a dream and then woken up in the same dream before either. This _can’t_ be a dream.

He’d already mostly come to that conclusion yesterday, but it’s still hard to wrap his head around.

Louis decides he needs to find Harry. Having Harry by his side yesterday made everything much easier to digest, somehow. It still felt like a dream, but mostly because it was so fucking wild to be with Harry again.

So he gets out of the gigantic bed, and then realises he’s still wearing the shirt and tracksuit bottoms he’d left the house in. They’re sweaty, quite dirty, and starting to smell. He should probably change into something more suitable for wandering around a bloody palace, but he’ll need to find Harry to ask him for clothes.

Then his eyes fall on the large, golden wardrobe opposite the bed. Maybe he’ll find something in there? Surely Harry won’t mind.

Louis approaches the wardrobe, and just as he’s reaching out to open a door, the door swings open of its own accord and a light blue shirt is spat out onto him.

Louis splutters for a moment, clutching at the shirt, then takes a look at it. It’s fancier than the one he’s wearing, that’s for certain, but it’s not as fancy as Harry’s outfit yesterday. It reminds Louis of the shirts Harry wore as a kid, actually - expensive, but plain.

He pulls off his shirt to put the new one on, and gets smacked in the face with a pair of trousers.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, glaring at the wardrobe. “Give it a rest! I mean, cheers, but you don’t have to be so enthusiastic.”

The wardrobe creaks, and it sounds apologetic, which makes Louis feel like he’s losing his marbles.

“It’s alright,” he says anyway, because if he’s going crazy then he’s going crazy. May as well go with it. “Just, no more throwing. I hate to see what damage you could do with a pair of shoes.”

The wardrobe creaks again, and this time it sounds like a laugh. Alright. Instead of thinking about that, Louis inspects the trousers. They’re a lot like the shirt - expensive but plain, just a straight-cut charcoal knit.

He needs new underpants before he can put them on, though, and he says so to the wardrobe. There’s a whirring noise, and then a pair of pants and a pair of socks drop out onto the floor.

“Very good,” Louis praises it. “Thanks very much.”

He finishes getting dressed, putting on his own Vans, which are a tiny bit worn but only look a little mismatched with his outfit. At least he’s comfortable.

He’s on his way towards the door when he sees something out of the corner of his eye - towards the window, whatever it’s facing seems to be very colourful. He spins around and walks to the window instead, to have a look, and - holy shit. It’s the _sky_.

He shouldn’t be surprised, as the sky looked unbelievable last night as well, but it hadn’t looked like _this_ during the day. He can’t quite remember what it did look like, but it couldn’t have been too out of the ordinary, since he doesn’t remember it. But now - now it’s like a sunset, streaks of colour across the sky, except it’s all the colours of the rainbow. Big fluffy white clouds are passing by like normal, if a bit fast, but the backdrop is out of this world.

Louis is amazed. His instinct is to get out his phone and take a photo - so he does just that. Part of him expects the photo to come out normal - like what he’s seeing is all in his head. But it doesn’t, it’s just as beautiful.

Wow.

Louis hates to leave the window, would happily gaze out of it for hours, but he wants to find Harry. He needs to ask why the sky is so different to yesterday.

♠♥♦♣

The problem is, Louis doesn’t know where Harry’s room is. Last night, he’d been so tired that Harry had shown him to his room and he’d immediately fallen asleep. He’d assumed Harry was in the same hallway as the bedroom Louis was using, but every door was open and none of them looked like Harry would live in them.

Not that Louis exactly knows what Harry’s room would look like. He just didn’t feel like any of those rooms were right. And Harry wasn’t in them, so.

He goes downstairs, to the ground floor, hoping to run into someone who can help him. Instead, the first room he walks into is like stepping into a memory.

 _‘No,’ said Harry, a grumpy pout on his face. ‘That’s_ boring _. I’m bored of Knights and Princesses.’_

_Louis was surprised, to say the least. He had been to Wonderland lots by now, and Knights and Princesses was Harry’s favourite game. Harry was always the Princess, in a dress he’d ‘borrowed’ off Gemma, and sometimes Louis The Knight saved him, or sometimes Harry saved Louis, or sometimes they fought off the Dragon (played by The Cheshire Cat) together. No matter what, Harry always loved it._

_Louis sat down on the squishy white settee and patted the space next to him. ‘C’mon, Hazza, sit.’_

_Harry did so, still frowning._

_‘What’s happened?’ Louis asked. ‘Why don’t you wanna play Knights and Princesses?’_

_Harry frowned down at his chubby little hands, then mumbled, ‘It’s too real.’_

_Louis didn’t understand. He tilted Harry’s chin up so he could see his face. ‘I don’t get it,’ Louis said gently. He always tried to be very careful with Harry’s feelings. ‘There aren’t any dragons here.’_

_‘No, but…’ Harry said, then sniffed. Louis hoped he wouldn’t cry, because that would probably make Louis cry. ‘Maybe I’m not a Princess, and maybe you’re not a Knight, but I am a prince, and I’m surrounded by knights every day. I think - Mum’s started teaching Gemma her duties, just in case, and I…’ He trailed off, sniffling some more._

_Louis put an arm around him and pulled him close. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’_

_‘Well, I think, why would Gemma need to know how to be a Queen? Unless Mum dies,’ Harry said. ‘I don’t want my mummy to die!’ Then he burst into tears._

_‘Hey, oh, no, it’s okay,’ Louis said, trying to pull Harry into an even closer hug, which means Harry was basically in his lap. Watching Harry cry was so upsetting that Louis didn’t want there to be any space between them. Maybe that would bring him some comfort. ‘Your mum isn’t gonna die, not now, I promise.’_

_‘But how?’ Harry whispered. ‘How do you know?’_

_‘Well, I don’t, nobody does, but Harry,’ Louis said. ‘Your mum’s amazing. I’m sure this is just a - like. Just in case, like you said.’_

_Harry’s tears were subsiding, but he was still upset. ‘That’s what Mummy said.’_

_‘She wouldn’t lie to you Hazza,’ Louis said. ‘I bet she’s as safe as safe can be.’_

_‘Okay,’ said Harry, sitting up a bit and wiping his face. ‘I do still want to play a game. Just not that one.’_

_‘Hits a bit too close to home,’ Louis agreed. ‘That’s alright. How about Fairies? Or Witches? Or Mermaids?’_

_They were all Harry’s other favourite games, but Harry shook his head. ‘They’re boring,’ he said petulantly. ‘I see fairies and mermaids all the time, and everyone’s a witch here, basically. I want something different.’_

_Something different… Louis thought for a moment, and then he had an idea. ‘What about we play Business?’_

_Harry frowned. ‘I don’t know what that is.’_

_Louis grinned. ‘My stepdad, he works in Business. He wears a tie and carries a briefcase, and talks about taxes and stocks and investments… and other things like whether the weather will improve, or if he and Mum should paint the kitchen.’_

_Harry was sitting up now, his eyes bright and interested. ‘And what does your mum do? Does she work in Business?’_

_‘No,’ said Louis, smiling at the thought of his mum in a suit and tie. ‘She’s a nurse, that means she takes care of people who’re ill. And she’s a mum, so she stays at home with my sisters sometimes. She does the cooking and cleaning and stuff.’_

_‘Does your stepdad clean?’ Harry wanted to know._

_‘Not usually,’ said Louis, frowning. He’d never really thought about that. ‘He’s usually busy with his Business calls.’_

_‘Alright,’ Harry said, clapping his hands. ‘I like this game. You be the stepdad, working in Business, and I’ll be the mum.’_

_Louis smiled. It wasn’t exactly the game he was suggesting, but he was on board._

_Harry told Louis to gather up three frogs from outside, and then he raced upstairs. When they met up again, Louis had three talking frogs, and Harry had an assortment of mismatched clothing. He had a white suit jacket for Louis that was miles too big for him, and a gold necktie, as well as a flowy white dress._

_‘S’my mum’s,’ Harry said shyly, pulling it over his head. ‘I snuck into James’s room for your stuff.’_

_Louis had only met James once, but he knew he was the palace administrator. Which apparently meant he made sure everything was working as it should. Louis put on his clothes and sat at Harry’s little tea table, and Harry sat opposite him and got the frogs situated._

_Louis still wasn’t sure why they needed the frogs._

_‘Oh,’ Harry said, and produced three tiny hats out of his pocket. He placed them on the frogs’ heads and they ribbitted their thank yous._

_‘Lovely,’ Louis said._

_‘Oh, wait,’ Harry said. He jumped up and walked a few steps away, then looked at Louis with his hands behind his back. ‘I’m ready.’_

_‘Okay,’ Louis said._

_‘So lovely to see you dear,’ said Harry. ‘How was your day doing Business?’_

_Louis leaned back in his chair and flung a hand over his eyes. ‘Appalling,’ he said, in what he thought was a perfect imitation of Mark. ‘The taxes were at an all time low, and bloody Richard doesn’t know what he’s doing, he lost all the stocks.’_

_‘Oh, no,’ said Harry, sounding very sympathetic. He walked towards the table and placed an imaginary plate on it before sitting down. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. But look, I’ve made dinner, and little Johnny won seven cupcakes at school.’_

_Louis was sure that Harry didn’t know a thing about school. ‘Really Johnny?’ Louis asked one of the frogs. ‘That’s wonderful.’_

_‘My name is Alfred,’ said the frog._

_‘Don’t mind Johnny, he’s going through a phase,’ said Harry airily. ‘Now, what do you think about painting the weather room this week? Maybe a nice pink?’_

_‘That’s not - ‘_

_Louis was interrupted by laughter from the doorway. He turned to see Harry’s mum watching them, her hand over her mouth and happiness in her eyes._

_‘What’s this, Harry?’ she asked, sounding amused but also curious._

_‘We’re Adults,’ Harry said, waving his arm. The long sleeve of his dress draped over Alfred the frog, hiding him from view. ‘Louis has had a long day with the stocks and the taxes, and I’ve made him tea and looked after our babies.’_

_‘Oh, yes, of course,’ Anne said, nodding._

_‘Now, if you don’t mind,’ Harry said, in a voice that Louis could only describe as snooty. ‘We’re trying to discuss whether the weather will weather the paint in the weather room.’_

_Anne looked confused, understandably, and Louis said, ‘Psst. Harry. I was trying to tell you, there’s no such thing as a weather room.’_

_‘Oh…’ Harry said with a frown. Then he recovered, ‘Well, we’re discussing our baby Johnny.’_

_‘My name is Alfred,’ said the frog, his voice muffled under Harry’s sleeve._

_‘Well then, I’ll leave you to it,’ said Anne with a smile, and she left._

_‘What if we paint the kitchen instead?’ Louis asked Harry. ‘I was thinking, what about green?’_

Louis’s startled out of his memory by an unfamiliar Irish voice. “Ey, whatcha doin’ in ‘ere?”

Louis looks up from where he’s running his fingers over the same old white settee. There’s a boy, about Louis’s age, maybe a bit younger, with brown hair and blue eyes, wearing a chef’s outfit.

“Sorry,” Louis says. “Was looking for Harry. I got distracted.”

The boy frowns. “Whatcha lookin’ for Harry for?”

Louis isn’t quite sure how to answer that. “Because he’s my… person.”

The boy squints at him, and then he smiles. “Ohhh, you’re Louis, ain’t cha?”

Louis’s taken aback. It’s bizarre that so many people here know who he is, especially people he doesn’t remember from his childhood. When he thought this was a dream it made sense - now, he doesn’t know what to think.

“Yeah,” he says apprehensively.

The guy bounds over and gives him a quick and surprising hug. “‘M Niall,” he says. “I’m the palace chef, but also I’m Harry’s best mate. We grew up together, I got here when we were both about ten, so. Always used to chatter nonstop about you, I thought it was ‘cause aside from you and I there hadn’t been another child brought to Wonderland that Harry had met. He was dreadfully alone, f’I’m honest.”

Louis’s heart twinges. He doesn’t know how to respond to that. “Good to meet you,” he says.

“You too, mate,” says Niall. “It’s early, Harry’s probably still in bed. C’mon, I’ll take you to him.”

That Green Gentleman.

 _things are shaping up to be pretty odd_ _  
_ _little deaths in musical beds_ _  
_ _so it seems I'm someone I've never met_ _  
_ _you will only hear these elegant crimes_ _  
_ _fall on your ears from criminal dimes_  
_they spill unfound from a pretty mouth_

 

Harry opens his bedroom door and his smile widens quickly when he sees Louis. He reaches forward and slips an arm around Louis’s middle, dropping his smile onto Louis’s shoulder.

“Morning to you, too, love,” Louis says, amused and pleased.

“Good morning,” Harry says, tipping his head back up to smile at Louis. He’s very close. “I’m just glad you’re still here. I was worried yesterday was a beautiful dream.”

Louis feels his face scrunch up in a smile as his heart beats wildly. He remembers this feeling from his childhood; so overwhelmed whenever Harry gives any indication that he cares about Louis as much as Louis cares about him.

“Well this is adorable,” Niall says. Louis’s startled, having quite forgotten he was there, and looks over to see Niall smirking back. “I found this one wandering downstairs, looking for you.”

“Oh,” Harry says. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you last night how to find me.”

“S’okay, I was so tired I probably would’ve forgot,” Louis says.

“I’d better get going, gotta get breakfast finished,” Niall says. “Your mum’s dining in about twenty minutes, H, if you want to join her.”

“Right,” Harry says. “Thank you, Niall.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Louis chimes in.

Harry gives Louis a sheepish smile as Niall leaves. “Do you want to see my room?”

Of course Louis does.

Harry’s room is different to the gold and white of the rest of the house. Everything is pastel blue and pink, with rose gold accents. The blue is eerily familiar, and it isn’t until Louis walks past Harry’s mirror with its ornate rose gold frame that he realises. It’s there in his reflection. Harry’s room is decorated in the exact shade of Louis’s eyes.

“You’ve got a lovely room, Harry,” Louis says. “Can I ask, though… why the colour scheme? I mean, it’s different to the rest of the castle. That I’ve seen.”

Harry smiles to himself and says, “Yes. Well, I prefer it. I, um. I begged my mum to replace the white in my room when I was seven. As this blue is my favourite colour, and so is pink. And then I became obsessed with rose gold a few years ago, so.”

Louis nods. He purses his lips, wanting badly to ask if Harry knows that this blue is the same colour as Louis’s eyes. He doesn’t ask, in the end, deciding It’s a bit too awkward if Harry doesn’t know. “I like it,” he says instead.

Harry’s eyes light up. “Thanks, Lou,” he says.

“So,” Louis says, sitting on the edge of Harry’s bed. “Are we going to breakfast with your mother?”

Harry nods. “If you don’t mind,” he says. “I know she’d love to spend more time with you.”

Louis smiles. “I’d like that too.”

“We can go downstairs now if you like,” says Harry. “I’m ready if you are.”

Louis takes in his outfit for the first time. There aren’t any sparkles, but it’s an extravagant look nonetheless; a peach silk jumpsuit with ruffled sleeves and a pussy bow. It looks soft and pretty.

“You look lovely,” Louis says, and Harry looks so pleased that Louis makes a mental note to give him more compliments. “Yeah, we can go.”

On the way downstairs, Louis comments on the sky, and Harry doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

“It’s like a rainbow,” Louis says. “Does it often have so many colours?”

“Um, yes,” Harry says, looking confused. “Every day.”

“But it didn’t yesterday,” says Louis. “I would’ve noticed.”

“Yes it did,” says Harry with a frown. “ _I_ would have noticed if it didn’t.”

They stop on the stairs and frown at each other, until they both laugh.

“I’ll ask my mum,” Harry says, and they start walking again. “There’s probably a reason.”

Queen Anne greets them in the dining hall happily, and as they sit down, cutlery and plates dance along the table to set places in front of them.

“Did you have a good night’s sleep, Louis?” Anne asks.

“I did, thank you,” Louis says. “My bed was so comfy.”

“We’re a bit confused this morning, though, Mum,” Harry says. “Louis sees all the colours in the sky today, and he’s saying he didn’t notice yesterday.”

“Ah, yes,” Anne says with a smile. “It just means that you’ve accepted that Wonderland is real. It trusts you now, it’s settled into its natural state.”

“Oh,” says Louis, frowning. How strange. “So the blue sky yesterday - that’s not its natural state?”

“No,” Anne says. “Wonderland exposes itself to newcomers slowly, to ease them in. The environment in Wonderland will often change depending on your mood, especially when you first get here. If things are too different and confusing, you’re more likely to panic.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” says Louis. “Though I think there’s still plenty to be confused about.”

“Yes, you’re probably right,” says Anne.

“You’re both ignoring the important part,” Harry says. “Lou, you’ve accepted Wonderland? You don’t think you’re dreaming anymore?”

Louis smiles at his hopeful expression and shrugs. “I mean, yeah,” he says. “I’ve never had a dream last this long before.”

“I’m so glad,” says Harry, his eyes shining like he’s proud.

Breakfast is full of delicious and unrecognisable fruit, and light, friendly chatter. Anne and Harry want to know all about his life back home, and he’s happy to tell them.

“So, Louis,” says Anne as their dishes scurry away. “Are you ready to take The Royal Genetics Test?”

Louis blinks. That rings a bell. Didn’t Harry mention that yesterday? It’s probably harmless, so Louis shrugs. “I suppose so?”

“Wonderful,” Anne says. “Don’t be nervous, dear, it’s purely to see if your ancestors have been here, and what role they might’ve played. The test means nothing, really, unless you’re royal. And even then, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Louis casts a sideways look at Harry. Is there actually a chance he’s got royal blood? Wouldn’t that make him related to Harry? Louis makes a face and hopes fiercely that isn’t the case.

A man Louis doesn’t recognise enters the room; he’s tall and Asian with long black hair and wearing an entirely metallic ensemble.

“This is Steve, the Royal Geneticist,” Anne says. “Steve, this is Louis.”

“Ahh,” Steve says, glancing at Harry. “The Louis?”

“One and only,” Harry says, sounding proud. Louis looks at him curiously. His stomach twists at what’s becoming to seem like a very likely possibility; that Harry has talked him up to every single entity in Wonderland.

“Good to meet you, dude,” Steve says, and Louis realises he’s American. How strange; so far, Louis’s only heard British accents.

“Um, you too,” Louis says.

“Come with me, this won’t take long,” Steve says, and Louis follows him out, down several long corridors, up some twisty stairs, and into a large room. It looks almost like a lab, except it’s still very ornate, with lots of white and gold. Louis wonders if this is what laboratories looked like in the 1800s.

Steve gestures for Louis to sit in a big white chair, almost like a dentist’s chair, but fluffier. It’s comfortable, but Louis still squirms when Steve pulls out a container of needles.

“Don’t worry, they’re sterilised,” Steve says. “Are you afraid of needles?”

Louis has to laugh, showing Steve the collection of tattoos on his forearm. “Not exactly, mate,” he says. “S’just a bit unnerving.”

Steve nods. “I get it,” he says. “But it’s just a tiny prick. We don’t need much blood to do the test.”

“Okay,” Louis says. He focuses on Steve’s face, not on his hands, which are bringing the needle closer. “Tell me how this works, then, to distract me?”

Steve smiles. “I don’t know if even I could explain it,” he says. “I have Science Magic, which means that I could pick a mentor and follow into their field. I chose the last Royal Geneticist, who taught me how to do this. You have to have Science Magic to be a Royal Geneticist, you know. So, basically it starts with a blood sample, which I then put into that jar over there - ” Steve points to a large, basin-shaped jar, which has hundreds of little red dots zooming around in it, among zaps of blue and gold light. Louis makes a face as he realises that those dots are blood samples. “I close the lid and push my powers onto it, and your sample tries to find any matches. The samples are all named, so if your sample finds any family members, they’ll float to the top together and we can see who you’re related to.”

Louis gapes at him. He doesn’t know how DNA tests are done back home, but he knows it’s obviously not like that.

Steve is dropping something into the huge jar, and Louis looks down at his arm to see a cotton ball stuck to his skin. “Did you already do it?” he asks, in disbelief. He hadn’t even realised.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, the process usually distracts people,” he says. “Now, it should take a few minutes to find any matches.” He closes the lid and presses his hands to the glass, his eyes closed.

Lightning bolts of blue, green, pink and gold fill up the jar, and the samples zoom around ten times faster than before. Steve drops his hands and takes a step back.

“Whoa,” he says. “That’s slightly more colour than I’m used to. Faster, too.”

What does that mean? “Does it do that if you’re royalty?” Louis asks, his heart in his throat. Please, God, don’t let him be related to Harry. Louis might never act on his feelings, but he doesn’t need to be disgusted by them.

“No,” says Steve. “No, this is… something else. I haven’t seen it in a long time.”

Louis bites his lip. Anne had told him not to worry, but this… it doesn’t seem good.

Finally the whizzing slows down, the lightning bolts cease, and then the samples come to a complete stop. A collection of samples float to the top - more than a handful.

“Are there usually that many?” Louis asks, surprised. He really hadn’t expected to have that many ancestors in Wonderland. He’d almost thought he’d be the first, actually.

“No, not usually,” Steve says, and he uses a glowing ladle to scoop out the samples and lay them out on the bench. He studies the first few, and then takes a breath. “It’s exactly what I thought. Louis, the last time I saw this reaction was twenty-four years ago.”

Louis frowns. That’s almost as old as he is.

“The test subject was a man named Troy Austin. Does that name ring a bell?”

Louis is sure his eyes bulge out of his head. “What?” he says, his voice almost a whisper. He’s in disbelief. “That’s my… that’s my deadbeat father. He abandoned us when I was a baby.”

Steve sighs. “I thought so… Louis, your father came here. That’s where he’s been all this time.”

Louis feels like he’s been kicked in the stomach. This place… Wonderland was supposed to be his refuge. How could it possibly be if his lousy father is here somewhere?

“I don’t know where he is now,” Steve says.

“So… he could be anywhere? I might not run into him?” Louis asks hopefully.

“It’s unlikely you would,” Steve confirms. “I haven’t seen him in at least twenty years.”

Louis frowns at the uncertainty, but he still feels a bit like a weight is lifted. Maybe he can just ignore this bit of information, then.

“Louis,” Steve says. “There’s a reason the Genetics Test reacted that way for you and your father. Your family…”

Full of dread, Louis waits for him to say his family is evil, or universally hated, or banned from Wonderland, or something terrible like that.

“Your family is descended from Alice.”

All of Louis’s thoughts stop in their tracks, and he tilts his head to the side. “Alice?” he says. “Like… from Harry’s story? About the Queens?”

“Yes,” Steve says. “Alice is something of a hero here. It’s because of her that Wonderland was saved from the Red Queen’s tyrannical rule, and that peace has reigned ever since. Most people in Wonderland adore Alice. She decided to go back to The Other World, of course, so her memory and her descendants are all we have.”

Louis doesn’t understand. How could he be descended from Wonderland’s greatest hero? How could his cowardly father?

He has a headache.

“Do you have to tell the Queen about this?” he asks.

“Well, no,” Steve says. “And I would need your permission first.”

“I don’t want you to,” Louis says. “I don’t want Harry to know. And I don’t want An- the Queen to treat me differently.”

“Oh,” Steve says, surprised. “Okay then. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Louis says.

He’s not sure why, exactly, but he doesn’t want people to know who his family are. He feels like he’ll be judged negatively for his father, and maybe positively for Alice, but maybe people will think he falls dramatically short of her, and really. He’d rather be judged for who he is.

♠♥♦♣

Louis feels sombre as Steve escorts him back to Harry, but as soon as he sees Harry, Louis feels his mood lift. Not entirely, mind, but enough. Seeing Harry feels like getting the warmest, most comforting hug. His presence is calming like nothing else.

“How was it?” Harry asks, a happy smile on his face.

“Fine,” Louis says. “Standard. What d’you have planned for us today, Harold?”

“Well,” Harry says, fussing with his extravagant sleeves. He seems hesitant. Louis decides to put his headache aside and do whatever it is Harry wants. “I was thinking I could show you around some more? Maybe we could visit with some of my friends.”

Louis’s really not sure why he seems nervous about that, but he finds it very endearing. “I’d love that,” he says. “Could you show me some of our old places?”

Harry beams and nods. “Yes, of course,” he says.

♠♥♦♣

Their first stop is just a short walk from the castle, on the edge of the forest.

“Lots of my friends live there,” Harry says. “Which makes sense, actually, as it’s so close to my place. I used to explore this part of the forest a lot.”

“So who exactly are we visiting?” Louis asks.

“Well, I thought we could start with Liam,” Harry says. “Ask him if he wants to come with.”

“Liam lives in the forest?” Louis asks.

“Yes, in the Sequoia.”

Louis’s about to ask what that is when Harry stops. Louis looks from Harry to what’s in front of them, and then does a double take. It’s a tree, but it’s _huge_ , actually oversized. Its trunk is probably close to ten feet wide, and Louis has to crane his neck upwards before he can even see the beginnings of branches.

“Harry,” he breathes. “How is this tree even possible?”

Harry giggles. “Lots of my friends live here,” he says. “Inside the trunk.”

Louis believes that. The trunk is definitely big enough to fit small flats inside.

“There’s a door around the side, but that’s more for the lower levels. To get to Liam’s floor, we can use the pulley, or some of Niall’s Fizzy Lifting Drink.” Harry gestures at a rope and seat, presumably the pulley.

“And what is Fizzy Lifting Drink?” Louis asks. It rings a bell, like he’s seen it in a movie or something.

“Well, Niall likes to try to create things based on Other World stories,” Harry says, then pauses with a frown. “Films? Is that right?”

Louis nods, hopelessly fond.

“I’m not sure where he got the idea for Fizzy Lifting Drink, but it’s basically an anti-gravity serum. It makes you float.”

“Float?” Louis’s mouth drops open. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s quite a lot of fun,” Harry says. “We can take that, if you like. I’ve perfected it now, we need three drops to get to Liam’s floor.”

Louis has a quick vision of floating up into the sky never to be seen again, but he shakes that away. He trusts Harry. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Harry pulls out a vial with a dropper. “Open your mouth,” Harry says, and Louis does. He feels a bit odd, standing there with his tongue out at Harry, but Harry drips three drops into his mouth, casual as ever.

Louis’s obsessing over whether Harry sees him as a romantic prospect at all, when he slowly rises off the ground. Harry’s right behind him, and they take off at a very slow and steady pace. Louis watches the tree instead of looking down; branches have come into view, and on them there are chairs and tables, strings of laundry, even some animals and people. Every single one says hello to Harry.

“We’re almost at Liam’s,” Harry says, and sure enough, the potion must be wearing off. They’re floating even slower, and they come to a stop beside an empty branch. “Grab on.”

Louis follows Harry’s lead, levitating close to the branch and then holding onto another as they make their way towards the door in the trunk of the tree.

“You won’t float away if you let go of a branch,” Harry says. “We’re stuck at this level for a bit, until the drink wears off. Just might help you feel more secure.”

“It does,” Louis says, and Harry knocks on Liam’s door.

Liam opens it and seems surprised to see them. “Hi lads! Come in,” he says, opening the door wide. They float in, feet hardly touching the floor. “How d’you like the Sequoia, Louis?”

“It’s incredible,” Louis says. “Unbelievable. Fucking majestic.”

Liam laughs. “Thanks, mate, I think so too.”

The inside of the tree looks almost like any other apartment, except the walls, floor, and ceiling are obviously wood. It makes the room look quaint. Louis loves it.

“Are there other trees like this, that people live in?” he asks. “Or is this the only one? How’d you get to live here?”

“There’s a few others,” Liam says. “None as big or as old as this one. And, uh, I moved in when I became a Knight. Do you want a tour?”

Of course Louis does. It’s a small flat, but there are two floors to it, and there’s a living room, kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. There’s only one bed, but it seems like Liam lives with someone - there’s two toothbrushes in the bathroom. Louis wonders if that’s a girlfriend, or if Liam shares a bed with a roommate. Or maybe he just has two toothbrushes. Louis doesn’t quite know what to make of it, as he hasn’t seen any other indication that people in Wonderland actually have romantic relationships.

Liam sits Louis and Harry down with cups of tea, and that’s when Harry tells them his vague plan for the day and invites him along.

“Oh, yes,” Liam says. “Where were you thinking of going? I haven’t seen Zayn in a few days.”

“Really?” says Harry, surprised. Louis feels like he’s missing something.

“Oh, he gets caught up at Alan’s,” Liam says, looking fond. “They lose track of time.”

“Well, yes, I was thinking we’d go around there,” Harry says. “I wanted to visit the tea party.”

“Sounds good,” says Liam. “Does Louis want to see the top of the tree while he’s here?”

Harry smirks at Louis. “Another time, I think,” he says.

“What?” asks Louis. “What’s at the top of the tree?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Harry says, impossibly pleased with his secret. Louis is tempted to climb to the top of the tree just to spite him. “It’s worth the wait.”

Louis harrumphs. “Fine, I’ll trust you.”

“Thank you,” says Harry sincerely.

“Are we ready to go, then?” Liam asks after he drains his tea.

“How does that work?” Louis asks. “Do we have to take another potion?”

“Oh, no,” says Harry. “There’s a slide in the tree.”

Louis frowns, and Liam gets up and opens a circle-shaped door in his wall. “It goes from top to bottom, and there are doors to it in every flat.”

“Wow,” says Louis, standing up. He realises that his feet are solidly on the floor; he doesn’t seem to be floating anymore. “That looks incredible.”

And it is. It’s so much fun, like a rollercoaster in the dark. Louis can’t see anything, he can only hear Liam’s whoops from behind him and Harry’s cries of terror from in front, and feel the smooth wood underneath him. The slide goes on for a few minutes, which feels like ages, and Louis is full of adrenaline when they whoosh out and land on some soft grass.

“Never gets old,” Liam says as he lands beside Louis.

Harry’s shakily getting to his feet. “It’s always scarier than I remember,” he says with a shudder.

When Louis tries to stand up, he’s hit with a wave of vertigo, and the slight headache that’s plagued him all morning starts pounding. He stumbles and holds a hand to his forehead.

“Lou,” Harry says, steadying him. “Are you okay?”

Louis tries to breathe. “It’s my head,” Louis says. “I’ve had this headache all day.”

Harry frowns at him, clearly concerned. “Let’s go and have a cup of tea,” he says. “Maybe that will help.”

“You could take this,” says Liam, offering a little green cube. “It’s a headache and basic illness remedy. Niall makes them, I always try to keep one on me.”

“Does it work?” Louis asks, taking the sticky square off Liam. “It won’t poison me?”

“No,” Liam laughs. “I take them all the time. It’ll work, just suck on it.”

“That’s what she said,” Louis says, but neither Liam or Harry laugh.

“Who said?” Harry asks, looking confused.

Huh. Maybe they don’t even understand basic innuendo here. Louis’s surprised, mostly at Liam - he was a teenage boy in the 2000’s before he came here. Surely he’s heard that phrase before.

“No one, never mind,” Louis says, and stuffs the green cube in his mouth and starts sucking on it. As they walk, his headache slowly clears up, and within minutes, the cube has dissolved and his headache is gone.

♠♥♦♣

Louis knows, based on how long he walked yesterday, that the Mad Hatter’s tea party isn’t far from the palace. It seems like Harry wants to go the long way, however, because they aren’t taking the same route as yesterday. Today, the trees are sparse, the hills are rolling, and they’re walking on a red and black patterned path. They’re surrounded by deeply saturated colour, and occasionally they’ll see a little cottage.

“You’re taking us the long way, aren’t you,” Louis eventually says.

Harry grins at him. “Yes. Just thought you’d like to see more of Wonderland.”

“ _Well_ ,” says Louis. “You were right.”

Harry seems pleased, and they walk past a knight in red armour dueling a knight in white armour, leisurely, as if they’re in slow motion.

“What on earth is that?” Louis asks.

“The Red Knight and The White Knight,” Liam says. “They’re not actually knights anymore - they’re too old. They fought back when the original Red Queen and White Queen were around, and they’ve been fighting ever since.”

“I used to think that when the Red Queen was defeated, nobody bothered to let them know,” Harry says. “So one day, I told the White Knight. And he laughed and patted my head and said, ‘Silly boy, that conflict will never end.’ I don’t think they’d know what to do with themselves if they stopped.”

“But they’re hundreds of years old,” Liam says. “So they’re no good at it.”

There’s a loud clashing sound behind them, followed by the sound of old men groaning.

“Fair enough,” Louis says, and they continue on.

♠♥♦♣

The Mad Hatter looks exactly the same as Louis remembers. He didn’t have much of a chance to process everything yesterday, but he notices now that the Hatter looks young, maybe in his late thirties. He’s almost handsome, with kind eyes and shaggy brown hair. He’s wearing a long, orange velvet coat, over a green waistcoat and leather pants, with a purple cravat. He’s also wearing a large top hat covered in green and purple sequins. Louis wonders if this is where Harry got his fashion sense from, or if this is simply indicative of the trends in Wonderland.

The Hatter doesn’t even seem mad, just a bit different. He’s overjoyed to see Harry; gives him a big hug and says they’ve been saving a seat just for him.

“Do you remember Louis?” Harry asks, and the Mad Hatter’s eyes focus on Louis.

“Yes,” he says slowly. “Yes, you’re - you were a little boy. You loved our tea, you wanted to stay at the party whenever Master Harry wanted to leave us.”

Louis smiles; he’s certain that’s true. “I’ve never turned down a cuppa in my life.”

“That’s why I like you, little one,” the Mad Hatter says. He’s kind enough that Louis doesn’t even resent being called little. “You sit here, beside me.”

Louis does, and Harry sits on Louis’s other side. Beside him is the man from yesterday, with the tall hair who Louis didn’t trust very much. Beside Liam is a giant rabbit.

“Louis, this is Nick,” Harry says, gesturing to the man next to him. “We’ve been friends forever. He’s descended from the Hatter.”

Nick nods at Louis with a smirk. He’s wearing a purple three-piece suit and his quiff is at least five inches high. “We met yesterday,” Nick says.

“Oh, right,” says Harry. “I think you mentioned that, didn’t you Lou?”

Louis nods, then he’s distracted by the Hatter pouring him a cup of tea.

“Did you meet the March Hare?” Harry asks, motioning towards the giant rabbit next to Liam. He’s wearing his own suit. Louis wonders if they consider velvet a requirement for hosting tea parties.

“We saw one another, but did not properly communicate,” says the March Hare. He speaks oddly, like he gives weight to every part of a word. “Which is a shame for your friend, as I am the _only_ person at this table worth talking to.”

“You are a rabbit, not a person,” the Hatter corrects him primly. “You are the only rabbit worth talking to.”

“At this table,” Nick adds. “The White Rabbit is a thousand times more interesting than you are. I wish he’d come to tea.”

“He’s avoided us ever since Marchie destroyed his watch,” says the Hatter sadly.

Harry ignores them, looking at Louis with interest. “Did you meet Mr Doormouse?”

“No,” Louis says. “Who’s that?”

“He’s a doormouse,” Harry says, and the Hatter finally places a cup of tea in front of Louis.

“Here you are,” he says. “The finest cup.”

Louis’s cup is larger than anyone else’s, almost the size of his head. He’s not complaining - the March Hare has a cup that’s literally been cut in half, right down the middle, with the tea magically keeping itself inside. Louis would rather have a giant cup than half a cup. He takes a sip, and sighs in contentment. It’s delicious.

The taste settles on his tongue and suddenly Louis really feels like he could go for a cigarette.

“Oh,” he says. Oh, shit. That’s why his head has been aching.

“What is it?” Harry asks. “Don’t you like the tea?”

The Hatter drops his spoon and stares at Louis, his eyes wide with betrayal.

“Oh, no!” Louis cries. “No, the tea is lovely. Really good. No.”

The Hatter nods at him, looking satisfied, and goes back to stirring his own tea.

“No, I just realised why I’ve had a headache,” Louis says to Harry. Liam and the March Hare are having a lively discussion, so nobody else seems to be paying him any attention. “Um - I don’t know if you know what it is - but back home, I smoke. I’ve been craving nicotine. That’s what’s been wrong.”

“Smoke?” Harry says, that beautiful wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, they’re called cigarettes,” Louis says. “They’re these little white sticks filled with tobacco, you light one up and suck on it and breathe in the smoke. It’s addictive, I s’pose I’m a bit addicted.”

“Right,” Harry says with a nod, and then his face lights up. “Wait, I know tobacco. We have that.”

“You do?” Louis is surprised. For some reason, he can’t imagine anyone here smoking.

“Not in large supply,” Harry says. “But we do. Alan harvests it. So Zayn would be able to get you some. I’m sure he can help.”

“And we’re going to see Zayn after tea?” Louis says, as he knows Zayn was near here yesterday. On that mushroom. Smoking.

Oh, duh.

“Yes,” says Harry. “Do you think you can wait until then?”

Louis smiles at how concerned he is. “Of course.”

He looks back over the table, to see Liam and the March Hare still engaged in a lively discussion. Nick seems to be watching them, and the Hatter is watching Louis. Louis starts.

“So good to see you again, little one,” says the Hatter dreamily. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes,” says Louis, even though he had this same conversation yesterday, because it’s different now. Now he knows this man isn’t a figment of his imagination, but rather the sweet host of countless tea parties, who spoiled him and Harry with tea and biscuits, talking to them as if they were grown ups. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we? I remember one time you made me a hat, as you were always making them for Harry and I wanted one of my own.”

The Hatter is thrilled. “Yes, yes!” he cries. “Blue velvet with golden shimmer dust. It suited you perfectly.”

“I loved that hat,” says Louis, feeling wistful. He wishes he knew what happened to it.

“I still have it in my room,” says Harry sheepishly, as if he’s reading Louis’s mind. “It might be a bit too small for you now.”

“I can stretch the band, if you bring it to me,” says the Hatter. “Or I could just make you a new one!”

“I’d love that,” Louis says, smiling at him. The Hatter is like an overgrown child, really. It’s hard to believe he’s so much older than Louis.

“Oh! Which reminds me,” says the Hatter, and then he pulls a large box out of thin air and presents it to Harry. “For you, my flower. I was inspired last night.”

Harry looks delighted, and when he opens the box, his delight only increases. He pulls a tall hat out, and Louis has to bite back an incredulous laugh.

The hat has a rose gold satin brim, with a massive bouquet of flowers on top. It’s an assortment of roses and tulips and violets and daffodils, and sitting nestled in this bed of flowers is a flamingo. While the flowers still seem to be alive somehow, with little faces slack in sleep, the flamingo is very much not. It looks ceramic, but it can’t be; surely that would be too heavy for a hat. The flamingo has his own hat, rose gold satin as well with a handful of daisies on top, and a white ribbon tied around his neck.

“I love it so much,” Harry says, and when he looks up at the Hatter, there are tears in his eyes. “It’s beautiful. Rupert will love it too.”

“Well, yes, I hoped he might,” says the Hatter, clearly flustered by Harry’s emotion. “I’m happy you like it.”

“I love it,” Harry corrects. He picks it up and places it on his head. Louis almost expects it to topple off, but it’s completely balanced.

“It suits you,” says Nick, and it’s annoying that he’s right and that Louis didn’t say so first. The hat would look ridiculous on most people, Louis thinks, but on Harry it just looks… perfectly at home. “I told him he’d outdone himself.”

“Oh stop it,” says the Hatter, obviously well chuffed. “Flatterer.”

“Seriously, Harry, you look smashing,” says Nick, and Harry smiles, his cheeks pink, and Louis seethes.

He wants to drown Harry in his own compliments, or challenge to Nick to a compliment-off, because he’s sure that’s a battle he would win. But he’s also sure he’d look just a little bit pathetic and desperate, so he waits until Harry turns to him and asks what he thinks.

“It’s gorgeous, love,” Louis says. “It’s very you.”

Harry seems even more pleased, which Louis hadn’t thought possible. His nose scrunches up like he’s trying to hold in a sneeze, except Louis feels like what Harry’s trying to hold in is emotion. Louis’s heart aches, and he wants so badly to wrap Harry up in his arms and tell him exactly how beautiful he is.

“ _CLEAN CUP_ ,” the March Hare screeches, making everybody except the Hatter jump.

“How many times have I told you not to scream in my ear like that,” Nick moans.

“ _CHANGE PLACES_ ,” the March Hare screeches, standing up and pushing on Liam. “ _Clean cup, clean cup, move down, move down!_ ”

The Mad Hatter stands and joins him in song, pushing at Louis until he gets up as well.

They move around the table like an odd game of musical chairs, until they’re all seated at the opposite end where all the cups are clean.

“What was the point of that?” Louis asks Harry, who’s trying to steady his wobbling hat.

“The point, little one, is now we have clean cups,” says the Hatter. “Why do you think we have so many place settings?”

“But what happens when you’ve used all the cups?” Louis asks.

“Well then we clean them,” the Hatter says.

“It’s this thing called washing dishes,” says Nick in a bored voice.

“Well, not really,” says the March Hare. “I just use my magic to clean the cups.”

“But why couldn’t you just clean the cups without moving around, then?” Louis asks. His headache is coming back.

“ _Because that’s not the done thing!_ ” the March Hare shrieks, his voice cutting straight through Louis’s brain.

“Are you alright, Lou?” Harry asks as Louis winces and presses his fingers to his temple.

“Just my headache,” Louis says through gritted teeth.

“Oh no, is it back?” Liam says. “Maybe we should go and visit Zayn.”

“But we haven’t finished our tea,” says the Hatter sadly.

“Harry, are you sure you have to go?” Nick asks. “Why not let Liam escort Louis to Zayn, and you can stay with us.”

Louis presses his lips together tightly; he’s about two seconds away from really giving Nick a piece of his mind.

Harry looks from Nick to Louis and then back to Nick, looking torn, as if he wants to please both of them. He probably does.

“Do what you want to do,” Louis says. “I’ll be fine with Liam.”

“There you go,” says Nick with a smirk. “He doesn’t need you to chaperone.”

And Louis boils over. “Of course I don’t,” he snaps. “I’d just prefer it. You do know we haven’t seen each other in sixteen years, yeah? We’ve a lot of lost time to make up for, whereas I’m sure _you’ve_ imposed your company on Harry every chance you’ve had.”

The table is silent.

“Um,” says Harry nervously. “So I think Louis really needs to see Zayn. Get some of that tobocca.”

“Tobacco,” Louis corrects mindlessly. Harry’s absolutely right. Louis is feeling snippier than ever.

Nick makes a harrumph sound. “You don’t say.”

Louis feels like he should maybe apologise, but he’s not going to. Nick’s a twat and Louis needs him to leave Harry alone.

“So, we’re going to go,” Harry says. “Louis’s right, we’ve a lot of time to make up for. And we’ll come back for another party soon.”

The Hatter looks morose, and Nick looks annoyed. The March Hare looks like he couldn’t care less.

“I promise we’ll be back soon,” Louis says to the Hatter, and he gets a small smile in return.

“Please see that you do,” the Hatter says. “I’ll have your hat ready.”

“Thank you,” Louis says, heartfelt, and Harry thanks him for his own hat. Liam swallows down the last of his tea, and then they’re off.

“They’re a mad bunch,” Liam says once they’ve walked up the path and through the gate.

“I like the Hatter,” Louis says. “He’s lovely, he’s just a bit lost.”

Harry smiles at him. “I think so too,” he says. “He’s a charming man, really.”

“Unlike Nick,” Louis mutters.

Harry laughs and swings an arm around Louis’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to Zayn.”

♠♥♦♣

When they enter the clearing with the mushroom, Zayn is delighted to see them, but he’s also tiny. As tiny as Louis was yesterday.

“This is what he does,” Liam says fondly. “He shrinks down to Alan’s size so they can hang out.”

Louis has had enough of being in the dark. “Who the hell is Alan?”

Harry and Liam laugh, and Harry takes the tiny pieces of mushroom Zayn is waving at him.

“Eat this,” Harry says, giving Louis a piece. It’s barely anything, smaller than a fingernail, but Louis pops it in his mouth and as soon as he swallows it, he shrinks down until he’s looking Zayn in the eye.

“Nice to see you again,” Zayn says, and then Liam shrinks down and Zayn is distracted, rushing forward to pull him into a hug. Louis can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but it sounds like he’s apologising.

“They do this,” says Harry, who’s shrunk down as well. “They’re a bit weird.”

Louis gives him a funny look, because that doesn’t explain things as much as Harry seems to think it does, and then he watches Zayn and Liam curiously. They’re still hugging, and Liam is stroking Zayn’s hair. It feels oddly intimate, so Louis turns back to Harry.

“Who’s Alan?” he asks again.

Harry’s smile is indulgent. “He’s the butterfly who guards the mushroom. Or - you might remember him as a caterpillar, that’s what he was when we were children. See, our ability to shrink and grow comes from natural substances like this mushroom, which is very rare. Right now, we only have two, this one and another one. So when Alan has to go and look after the other mushroom, Zayn stays here. He basically works for Alan.”

“Right,” Louis says. “So - what? How does that work, then, if it’s so rare?”

“Well, we only need a very small amount to grow or shrink,” Harry says. “Alan and Zayn shave off bits of the mushroom as it grows, like harvesting, and then they give those amounts to Niall and Gemma, who make it into potions and cakes that people can buy.”

“Huh,” Louis says. He’s been shrinking and growing and taking it all for granted, he realises. He’d just thought it was magic; hadn’t considered that it might be in short supply, or something he should be paying for.

“So,” Liam says. He’s pulled Zayn over to Louis and Harry, and they’re still holding hands. It seems so pure, like they’ve missed each other so much they simply need to be touching. “Louis smokes back in the Other World, and he’s missing it.”

“Ah,” Zayn says, his sharp eyes on Louis. “Jonesing a bit, are you?”

“A bit,” Louis says, then sighs. “A lot.”

“Well, in addition to harvesting the mushroom, Alan and I are also avid smokers. We’ve harvested what little tobacco there is in Wonderland, as well as - well. Not much tobacco grows here, but there is a _lot_ of weed.”

Louis blinks. He feels like that would help him too. “I’d be good with either,” he says.

“I could spin it for you,” Zayn offers. “A bit of tobacco in the weed to satisfy your cravings. How’s that?”

“I’d love that,” Louis says, then he looks at Harry. Harry’s the fucking definition of wholesome; Louis isn’t sure how he’s going to feel about his plans for the day waylaid by drugs. “What do you think, Hazza?”

Harry smiles. “I want you to feel good,” he says. “And I wouldn’t mind a few hits myself.”

Zayn grins. “Sick,” he says. “Lemme just get it sorted.”

“How much do I owe you?” Louis asks, and Zayn laughs.

“You don’t have anything I want,” he says. “And besides, I don’t charge friends.”

Green Eyes.

 _I came here with a load_ _  
_ _and it feels so much lighter_ _  
_ _now I met you_ _  
_ _and honey you should know_  
_that I could never go on without you_

 

The weed in Wonderland is fucking _potent_. It’s past potent, really, it’s absolutely otherworldly. Louis feels tingly all over, and heavy, like he could sink right through the mushroom. And he sees - he’s sure he sees a glow around Harry, Zayn and Liam. Different colours are emanating off their bodies. It’s like Louis can see their auras.

“Hey,” he says slowly. “D’you guys, like, see that? The colour?”

“Mhm,” Zayn says, his eyes hazy. “S’our auras. The weed makes ‘em visible.”

Ha! He was right. “That’s what I thought it was,” says Louis, even though he’s surprised that auras are actually a _thing_.

Harry’s is a soft pink, Zayn’s is a rich violet, Liam’s is a dark red, and when Louis looks down at himself, he can see a golden glow.

“Yours is beautiful Lou,” says Harry, his voice like wading through syrup. “S’perfect.”

“Thanks, Hazza,” Louis says. His heart feels full, and when he looks down, it looks like the glow is even brighter. “Yours is perfect too.”

Harry smiles, pretty as the pink fog following his movements. Louis leans over, laying his head on Harry’s shoulder. Everything feels dreamy, hazy, unreal. The magic that Louis felt vibrating in the air this morning is now tangible, little streaks of lightning crackling around them.

They’ve only had one hit from Zayn’s hookah.

“This is only one hit,” Louis says. He can’t believe it. “This… is unbelievable. What happens if you smoke more?”

“This is what we call level one,” Zayn says lazily. “Level two is the same, just more intense. Anything you’re feeling, you really feel it. Level three is…”

“What?” Louis asks, anticipation in his throat.

“Level three is the sky,” Zayn says.

Liam must notice Louis’s confused face, because he explains. “Three hits of Wonderland weed and you start to float. Whenever we smoke that much we just end up chilling in the clouds.”

Louis feels so heavy at the moment, he can’t even imagine ever feeling light enough to float.

“It’s how Niall created his Fizzy Lifting Drink,” says Harry. “He extracted the element from weed, and purified it so you can float without the high.”

“Well what’s the point of that,” Louis says. “Can we do it today? Please?”

Zayn laughs. “I dunno,” he says. “You’re not used to Wonderland weed. You might react badly.”

“I’m very used to the other sort of weed,” Louis argues. “I’ll be okay.”

They each have another hit, the smoke colourful and wispy. Zayn and Liam create shapes out of it, and Louis leans back against Harry to wait for it to kick in. Everything just becomes fuzzier and more vibrant at once, and Louis feels light, suddenly, like he weighs nothing. There’s a pinkish gold tinge to everything, like he’s wearing rose-coloured glasses. He feels that way, too, feels impossibly good.

Harry presses his hands to his mouth and then blows a kiss, and a handful of small pink flowers materialise in the air and shower down onto Louis.

“What’d you do that for?” Louis asks, bewildered.

Harry giggles. “Our magic is always stronger after smoking Wonderland weed,” he says. “I like testing it.”

Louis smiles at him, picking a flower off his chest and spinning it around.

“Explain something to me,” Louis says. “I’ve seen flowers here that are like people, with little faces and personalities. But you’ve also made flowers like this one, who don’t seem… sentient. How does that work?”

Harry smiles. “A flower only has personality if it’s given to them,” he says. “Or if it grows in one of Wonderland’s magic grottos. Those flowers soak up the magic in the earth and it gives them life. For flowers that are created, by me or anyone else – you have to give them extra magic. I often don’t, as I like them either way. They’re living regardless of whether we can tell.”

“Wow,” Louis breathes. “So have you – you’ve done it before? Yourself?”

Harry nods. “The flowers in my garden, the ones that can talk. I created them.”

“That’s amazing, Harry,” Louis says. “You’re basically a God.”

Harry looks puzzled. “What is a God?”

Louis just laughs. “Wait,” he says. “What about those flowers? On your hat? What happens once they’ve been pulled out of the ground?”

“Nothing,” Harry says.

Louis frowns. “But - what? Flowers die after you pick them.”

“That’s a myth,” Harry says, shaking his head. “Magic flowers don’t die.”

Huh. Louis wants to argue how that could be possible, but he decides that Harry is definitely more of a flower expert. He’ll take his word for it.

And shit, level two has really kicked in. He’s _overwhelmed_ by how much he feels for Harry right now.

He’s just - he’s fucking beautiful. Louis’s been trying to ignore how beautiful he is, honestly, he’s been trying so hard to just be Harry’s friend. But he’s so pretty, and his clothes are so pretty, and he looks like the prettiest, fanciest pirate today. Louis stares at Harry, at his green eyes out of focus as he watches the pink flowers swirling in the air in front of him. He thinks about what the Hatter said yesterday, about Harry being sad. Louis can feel it, can feel the heaviness in him, the sense of rejection and loss. Maybe Louis’s more sensitive to it, given that that’s how he’s been feeling himself.

He doesn’t understand how Harry could ever be treated badly. Is it even possible for a person to look at him and not try everything in their ability to make him happy? As soon as he has the thought, Louis promises himself that he will do anything to be what Harry’s been missing.

Louis knows that Harry is what _he’s_ been missing. His life had seemed so empty, so dull, and now, sitting here beside Harry, he knows why. It’s amazing, really, thinking about the rut he was in with Aiden, how lost he felt when Aiden fucked it up. He literally could not care less about that now; whatever he felt for Aiden is like a drop in the ocean of his feelings for Harry. It’s absurd to even compare them, and Louis feels even lighter at that realisation, at just how much better his life is with Harry in it.

“How you doing, Louis? Ready for level three?” Zayn asks.

“Yeah,” Louis says. Of course he is. He might be totally out of it, but he’s going to fucking fly.

♠♥♦♣

It’s not really flying so much as it is floating, almost exactly like the Fizzy Lifting Drink earlier - and Louis’s just placed where that’s from, bloody Willy Wonka - except they don’t stop when they reach the tops of the trees. The pinkish tinge to everything only intensifies as they float into the sky, the clouds are a pinkish gold and the sky is a soft purple and blue.

“You just need to do this to stop floating,” Zayn says when they reach the clouds, and he tips forward with his arms spread out. He stops floating upwards, gliding over towards a cloud.

Louis copies him, and so do Liam and Harry, and then they’re all sitting on Zayn’s cloud.

“You want to do that as soon as you get to the clouds,” Liam says. “The clouds are sticky. If you don’t stop floating here, it’s harder to get back down.”

Louis suddenly feels like this is a lot of responsibility to give someone who’s high, but then - he doesn’t feel like his judgement is exactly impaired. Instead, it’s like all his senses are heightened, like he’s using more of his brain than usual.

“Wait,” he says. “What d’you mean, the clouds are sticky?”

And now that he thinks of it - yeah, they are. They’re solid, too, more than Louis knows they should be. He presses his palm down on the cloud he’s sitting on, and thinks it’s actually a lot like candy floss.

Liam shrugs. “It’s just how the clouds are here.”

Harry sighs happily, leaning back on his bit of cloud. “You know, this is one of my favourite things,” he says. “I feel so at home here.”

Louis snorts. “Well, that makes sense,” he says. “You always seem like you’re floating around in the air.”

Harry grins. “Typical Aquarius,” he says. It strikes Louis as odd that Harry knows anything about starsigns. “I need someone to tether me to the earth.”

Louis doesn’t know anything about being an Aquarius, but it sounds like Harry is criticising himself for being too dreamy. Which is not on, Louis loves that about him. “Personally, I love your lofty idealism,” he says. “It’s quirky.”

Harry giggles. “Weed makes you sound intellectual.”

“Excuse me Harold!” Louis cries. “I always sound intellectual, as I’m a very intellectual person!”

Harry giggles some more. “Okay Lou,” he says. “Whatever you say.”

Louis makes an outraged noise. “Zayn, Liam,” he says, startling them out of the little world they’re in. “Tell Harry I’m an intellectual.”

“Um… You seem smart enough?” Liam says uncertainly, which makes Harry giggle harder.

“I really don’t know you well enough to say,” says Zayn, which, while true, is incredibly rude.

“That’s it,” Louis says. “I want to get off this cloud. I won’t be wasting my time with people who don’t think I’m intelligent.”

“Nooooo,” says Harry, reaching out and tugging Louis close to him. Even though Louis has no idea _how_ to even get down. “I’m sorry, Lou, you’re the smartest person I know. Don’t leave me.”

Louis has to laugh at Harry’s pout, then he snuggles into Harry’s arms. “Alright,” he says. “But you have to be nice to me.”

“I’m always the nicest,” Harry says. He’s a goddamn liar, but he’s comfy, so Louis lets it go.

♠♥♦♣

Louis completely loses track of time. There’s no need for it, no _concept_ of it up here. All Louis knows is the fluffy clouds, the entertaining conversation, and Harry’s warmth.

It’s a perfect oasis, which is why he’s startled when a pink and purple tail appears in front of him, few feet away.

“Harry,” Louis says quietly, just in case he’s seeing things. “D’you see that?”

“Oh!” Harry says, sounding pleased. “Hi!”

Fur begins spiralling up from the tail until the Cheshire Cat materialises. He grins. It’s still so bizarre to see a cat grin.

“Hello gentlemen,” he says. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Mm, it’s real uncommon occurrence,” Zayn says dryly.

“Indeed,” says the Cat. Louis realises he can see his aura too, but it’s completely different - while every other aura was like a fog, the Cheshire Cat’s aura looks like rainbow glitter. It’s all sparkles. Louis remembers Harry saying the Cat was the oldest creature in Wonderland, and Louis wonders if that’s why. If the Cat’s aura is representative of Wonderland.

Or maybe all animals have sparkling auras. Louis doesn’t know.

The Cat starts singing to himself, a nonsense song full of words Louis’s never heard before, and Liam bursts into giggles.

“Sorry,” he says as the Cat abruptly stops singing. “S’just, those are the silliest words I’ve ever heard.”

Louis agrees with him, and the Cat looks unimpressed.

“I’ll have you know, that this is one of Wonderland’s oldest poems,” he says.

“It shows,” says Louis, and the rest of the boys laugh.

The Cat narrows his eyes, and Louis notices that they’re a bright, brilliant green, a lot like Harry’s, actually. No wonder his mum used to call him her cheshire cat. They’ve got a lot of similarities.

“You’ve got nice eyes,” Louis can’t help saying. The boys give him odd looks, and the Cat seems taken aback.

“What a strange thing to say,” the Cat says, which is an unexpected response to a compliment. He floats closer, looking as if Louis has said something extremely interesting.

“ _That’s_ a strange thing to say,” Louis points out.

“How so?” the Cat asks.

“Well, usually when you compliment someone, they react differently,” Louis says. “For example, if I told Harry he had lovely eyes - which he does, by the way, I was just thinking that - he would... ”

Louis looks at Harry, who’s smiling at him bashfully, his pink aura intensified. “Thanks, Lou,” he says softly.

“There, he'd do that,” says Louis, triumphant. “That’s how you react to a compliment.”

The Cat hums thoughtfully. “I see,” he says. “Thank you.” He grins widely and tilts his head so far to the left, it detaches itself from his body and then drops back into place. Louis opens and closes his mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

“You’re welcome,” he finally settles on.

“You know,” says the Cat, floating even closer, his tail swishing around him. “You remind me of someone.”

Louis doesn’t know how to feel about that, but luckily he doesn’t need to respond, because Harry starts giggling this time.

“Sorry,” he says when the Cat looks at him blankly. “It’s just your tail. It’s so swishy.”

“It is!” Liam exclaims. “ _So_ swishy.”

“And your aura is so sparkly,” Zayn says, seeming bewitched.

The three of them are staring at the Cat as if they’re mesmerised. Louis gets it; the Cat looks truly fascinating right now, surrounded by glittering colours, his fluffy tail swinging through the air like a soft pendulum.

The Cat seems unnerved. Finally he says, in a haughty tone, “You humans have no tolerance for weed.” And then he disappears, his grin at their protests the last thing to go.

♠♥♦♣

It’s dark by the time they get back to the palace. They’d separated with Liam and Zayn in the forest, as they went off home, and now they’re sneaking into a quiet, dark palace. Louis doesn’t know why they’re sneaking, except for the fact that they’re still not entirely sober. They creep around in the dark, towards the kitchens, because they missed dinner.

There’s some covered meals sitting on the counter. Harry unwraps one and makes a happy noise. “Elderberry kiev with white whispers,” he says, and starts dishing it out. “You alright to eat this?”

Like everything he’s eaten so far, Louis has no idea what that is, but he’s liked everything else. “Sure,” he says.

The kitchen light flicks on and a booming voice says, “Gotcha!”

Louis and Harry both start, and Harry almost drops the food he’s dishing up. They both let out relieved breaths when they see it’s just Niall, cackling in the doorway.

“Seriously?” Harry says. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“You should’ve seen your faces,” Niall says, still laughing. He comes into the kitchen and sits at the table. “How’s your night been, lads?”

“Good,” Louis says, and looks at Harry.

“Yeah, good,” Harry says, a wide but bashful smile on his face.

“Why didn’t you invite me along?” Niall complains after they tell him what they’ve been up to. “I’m sure your family could’ve starved for one day.”

Harry snorts. “Next time,” he says. “On a day you’re not working, the five of us will get together.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Niall says, frowning. “Now, give us some kiev. I’m starved meself.”

Louis takes a bite of his own meal, and tampers down a moan. It’s absolutely delicious. Louis has no idea what Wonderland food is made of, but it’s better than anything he’s had back home.

“This is so good,” he says, and Niall beams. “I’m curious, though - what is it you guys actually eat?”

Niall shrugs. “Plants, mostly,” he says. "Grains. Stuff that grows from the earth."

Louis blinks at him. “Wait, really?” he says. He hadn’t even realised, not properly. “No dairy, no meat?”

“We use milk from plants, like almonds and coconut,” Niall says. “And - no, God, no _meat_.”

“Meat?” Harry says, looking confused and faintly disgusted. “Like - you don’t mean, from animals?”

“Uh, yeah,” Louis says. “That’s, like, normally what people eat. Back home.”

Harry actually looks ill. “That’s disgusting,” he says. “Oh my God. That’s barbaric. How could they - how could anyone - ”

Louis’s a bit confused by his reaction, until he realises that in Wonderland, animals are basically people. Eating them would be pretty similar to cannibalism.

“Huh,” he says. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough, I hadn’t thought about how animals like, talk here.”

“That’s not the only reason not to _eat_ them,” Harry says, upset. “They’re just like us, they think and feel like we do. Why should we eat them? What else do people do in the Other World, when they’re not murdering each other for a snack?”

“Well, it’s where we get a lot of our protein,” Louis says. “And it tastes good.”

Harry looks horrified. “ _Louis_.”

“I’m sorry, Haz, I never thought about it before,” Louis says, sincerely apologetic. “But if it helps, everything I’ve had here tasted better than anything I’ve eaten back home.”

“That’s ‘cause the plants are grown from magic soil,” Niall says. “Makes them taste like rainbows and sunshine.”

“I can’t believe you’ve eaten animals,” Harry says, shaking his head.

He seems so disgusted, and it makes Louis feel sick. There’s this swirling in his stomach at the thought of Harry being disgusted _by him_ , as well as the knowledge that Harry is upset because of him, and Louis can’t eat another bite until it’s resolved.

He ends up promising Harry that he’ll never eat an animal ever again, and the odd part is, he actually means it. He can’t believe he’s all of a sudden gone fucking vegetarian for a boy, but then again, he’s defied gravity twice today. Stranger things have happened.

When The Day Met The Night.

 _when the moon fell in love with the sun_ _  
_ _all was golden in the sky_  
_all was golden when the day met the night_

 

Louis wakes up feeling slightly off-kilter. Warm. Sweaty. Beside another person.

He startles awake, then calms down. It’s only Harry.

Louis stiffens. Harry. But no, nothing happened last night. The idea that anything _would happen_ , as much as Louis wants it to, is almost preposterous. It was only that they were both still a bit out of it, and after Niall said he had to get back and feed Flubber, whatever that meant, Louis couldn’t find the wherewithal to go back to his own room. And Harry hadn’t wanted him to, so they stayed up talking until the early hours of the morning, wrapped in Harry’s pink silk sheets.

And now Harry’s asleep in Louis’s arms, his back to Louis, holding Louis’s arms against his chest. His curls are tickling Louis’s face, and they smell like roses, and Louis closes his eyes and breathes in. The sun is just barely coming up, and Louis lets himself pretend.

It’s not even really sexual. That’s the weirdest part. Because Louis is a very sexual person, and the more time he spends with Harry, the more obvious it seems that Harry _isn’t_. And Louis’s disappointed by that, he’s not going to pretend he’s not. He’d assume that waking up spooning Harry would be close to torture.

And like, there’s a bit of that, sure. But mostly it’s just how fucking domestic this feels. Louis wants to be this for Harry, wants to be the person he wakes up with, the one who cuddles him while he sleeps. Louis’s heart aches for it in a way he’s never felt before.

It’s not long before Harry stirs. He snuggles back into Louis’s chest, curling his arms tighter around himself, and then makes a pitiful groaning sound. “Don’t wanna get up,” he mumbles. “M’comfy.”

Louis laughs with his mouth closed, suddenly horrifyingly aware of his potential morning breath. “Morning, sunshine,” he says, tucking his face into Harry’s shoulder.

Harry hums. “M’so comfy.”

“Me too,” Louis admits, and then a thought comes to him. “Hey. What’s Flubber, and why did Niall have to feed it?”

Harry chuckles. “I told you Niall likes to experiment with ideas from films, didn’t I? Apparently there’s some old film about a scientist who makes something called flubber.”

“Oh yeah,” Louis says. The memory comes back to him of a VHS tape from the 90s, with Robin Williams and a little slimy bit of goo. “Little green goo, innit?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “Only, some of Niall’s experiments don’t go quite right, as our magic doesn’t always work the same as in films. So the Flubber - like, it’s sentient? It’s this tiny, person-shaped glob of slime. It’s gross and it’s kind of adorable. S’Niall’s pet now.”

“What does he feed it?” Louis asks.

“Thistles. Speaking of pets,” Harry says, and then he gently lifts Louis’s arms and rolls over. Louis feels cold.

Harry makes a cooing noise - it’s very cute when he does it - and Rupert swoops in through the window.

“Hiiii, baby,” says Harry, running his fingers down Rupert’s neck. Louis tells himself it’s ridiculous to be jealous of a bird. “I have something to show you.”

Harry goes over to his dresser, where he’d left his new hat last night. He picks it up and puts it on, turning to Rupert with a big grin.

Rupert squawks unhappily and Harry’s face falls.

“Oh no, don’t you like it?” Harry says in dismay. “Look, look here, see the flamingo? Just like you.”

Rupert squawks louder and pecks at the fake bird firmly. Harry almost topples over.

“Hey,” he says, steading himself. “Be careful.”

Rupert pecks at the bird again, gentler this time, and gives another distressed squawk.

“Why don’t you like my nice hat?” Harry asks sadly.

Rupert answers with a sad squawk, and a belated peck at the bird.

“I think he thinks he should be the only bird sitting on your head,” Louis suggests. It makes sense that Rupert would be possessive. Louis would be, too.

“Oh,” Harry says, crestfallen. He takes off the hat and sets it aside, and Rupert makes a happy noise and rubs his head against Harry’s side. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I thought you’d like it.”

“The Hatter will be disappointed,” Louis says.

Harry looks at him, stricken. “Oh no, he will be, won’t he? Oh, I hope he understands.”

A part of Louis’s brain is aware that this whole situation is pretty absurd, but Harry’s upset, so obviously Louis’s going to give it more weight than it deserves.

“C’mon, darling, come here,” Louis says, holding his arms out. Harry crawls back into bed and into Louis’s arms, and Rupert curls up beside them like a cat. “I’m sure he’ll understand. He’ll just make you another one.”

“I hope so,” Harry says, snuggling back into Louis’s chest. “Can we go back to sleep for a bit, Lou?”

Louis smiles. “There’s nothing else I’d rather do.”

♠♥♦♣

Later that day, after they’ve visited the Hatter and told him about Rupert’s issues with the hat (of which he was surprisingly understanding and even apologetic),  Louis and Harry are sitting in a meadow. There are daisies swaying around them and three butterflies are braiding Harry’s hair, and he looks serene, like this is a completely normal thing for him. It’s also a really warm day, and Louis stops to think about it.

“Why is it so warm?” he asks Harry. “It’s December. I mean, isn’t it?”

Harry tilts his head. “Yes, it’s December,” he says after a moment. “But that doesn’t really mean anything.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks. “Yes it does. In December it’s cold, at least where I’m from.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, we don’t have that here,” he says. “The weather reflects the overall, average mood of the residents in Wonderland. Unless there’s a strong magical interference.”

“Riiight,” Louis says slowly. And, well. The clouds are made out of a sticky, solid substance. He doesn’t know why he expected the weather to be normal.

He looks at Harry and thinks that there’s one benefit; as it’s warmer today, he’s wearing loose pink linen trousers and a sheer black shirt. There’s so much softly tanned skin on display, and it’s covered in tattoos that Louis hasn’t seen yet. He’s seen glimpses of ink over the last few days, but as Harry is usually wearing suits, most of him is usually covered. As if that wouldn’t be enough to get Louis’s attention on its own, the tattoos are actually _moving_.

There’s a mermaid on his arm, actually startlingly racy in a rather nonsexual way; her boobs are just there, saggy and uncovered,  and her tail is low, exposing her hairy, human vag. Louis kinda takes it to mean that even beautiful mythical creatures have flaws. Like everyone is just human. She’s squinting at Louis and pursing her lips, and it almost looks like she’s daring him to impress her. Then she flips through the air and swims up and around Harry’s arm.

There’s a rose on Harry’s arm that spins and twinkles as if it’s covered in glitter.

There’s a bee on Harry’s arm that flies laps around his wrist, never quite sitting still.

There’s an anatomically correct heart on Harry’s arm and it’s beating steadily.

“Is that…” Louis says, reaching his fingers out and pressing the tips against Harry’s skin. Harry’s beating skin.

“Yep, that’s my heartbeat,” Harry says. “Very literal, that tattoo.”

Louis smiles. He can see movement on Harry’s chest, but he can’t see it properly through his shirt. “What’s going on in there?” he asks, and then regrets it when Harry looks down and immediately unbuttons his shirt, exposing his hairless chest.

There are two birds on his collarbones, both of their wings flapping, and they occasionally chirp at each other. Sometimes they get close enough to press their beaks together in a kiss, and then they swoop back into place.

“Such lovebirds,” Harry says, rolling his eyes fondly.

There’s a butterfly below them, on his stomach, its wings flapping steadily. So far it seems like all of his tattoos like to stay in the same spot, more or less, except the mermaid. Right now she’s swimming around the side of Harry’s neck.

Harry leans back in the sunlight and tilts his head upward, his shirt shimmering and his eyes closed. He’s wearing glitter eyeshadow, a pale pink. Louis isn’t sure how he missed that.

“Tell me a story,” Harry says, like he used to when they were kids.

It takes Louis a minute to unstick his tongue. “Alright,” Louis says. “In a mo'. Gotta think of one.”

For some reason – well, no, he knows the reason, all of Wonderland reminds him heavily of Panic! At The Disco’s second album – his first thought is a song.

“The sky was golden,” Louis starts. “The sun was in her garden, under green umbrella trees, having tea.” Harry’s opened his eyes and he’s watching Louis, now. “And the moon was feeling down, he was really lonely, so he thought he’d go exploring. He’d never met the sun before, and he felt like that would help him feel better. Maybe that was what was missing from his life. He’d always watched her from afar.”

It’s weird to talk about the moon with he pronouns. Louis’s always felt the moon had feminine energy, and it’s always reminded him of his mum, because of how much she loved it. It reminds him of her even moreso now; sometimes he sits outside and talks to the moon as if she’s his mum. But Harry’s clearly into the story, so Louis presses on.

“So he headed towards her garden. She looked radiant, obviously, and he asked if she’d mind if he joined her. So they had tea, and they talked, and the whole sky was a brighter and brighter golden yellow. They hung out for ages – and the moon realised he was actually kinda in love with her. And he told her that he was really enjoying spending time with her, and she said she was too, then she laughed and said ‘But you’ll leave, won’t you? You’ll leave and break my heart.’”

Harry was staring at him, absolutely rapt, his chin in his hands and his eyes wide. At Louis’s last sentence, his lip trembled, and Louis’s heart twinged. Harry was truly so empathetic, he connected with everyone and everything.

“And the moon said, ‘I don’t want to leave.’ The sun stared at him, trying to figure out if he was serious, and then she said, ‘Then stay.’”

“And did he?” Harry asks breathlessly.

“Yes,” Louis says. “As they were in love, and love conquers all.”

Harry sighs happily. “That was a wonderful story,” he says.

Louis smiles. “Thanks love,” he says. Truthfully he’d pulled most of it from the song and made up what he couldn’t remember, and if he’s honest the story was a little too hetero for his tastes, but that’s the way the song goes. “To tell you the truth, it’s not my story.”

“Oh?” says Harry. “Is it a traditional tale told in your world?”

Louis snorts. “No,” he says. “It’s a song.” Then it dawns on him. He has it on his phone. His phone might not be good for much, but it still has music on it.

“A song?” Harry asks, like the concept is confusing to him. Maybe it is. Louis wonders how much music Harry’s actually heard, aside from people simply singing. Not that that isn’t music, but still. It’s different.

Louis pulls his phone out. It’s on 84%, because he’s had it on Airplane mode just in case, and he hasn’t been using it.

“What’s that?” Harry asks.

“My phone,” Louis says.

“What do you use it for?” Harry asks.

“Well, back home, I use it to talk to people,” Louis says. “But that won’t work here. Here, we can use it to listen to music, and take photos, I s’pose, and that’s more or less it. Maybe play some games, I dunno.”

“Photos?” Harry says, his face lighting up. “Music?”

Of course Harry knows what photos are; Louis remembers the old camera he used to have.

“You know what music is?”

“Well, yes,” Harry says, as if it’s obvious. “My mum has a gramophone, and some records. I like The Beatles.”

Louis smiles. He’s pretty sure The Beatles would fucking love to know they were being appreciated in a place like this. It’s kind of the perfect backdrop for their music.

“Okay, so, this is like a gramophone,” Louis says. “Except it can play thousands of songs and it fits in your pocket.”

Harry’s eyes are wide. “Wow,” he says. “Can you play something? Play the song from the story?”

“Okay,” Louis says, scrolling through his admittedly small library until he finds Pretty.Odd. This is a fairly new phone, and Louis’s only synched a bunch of random albums and playlists onto it. It’s just lucky he’s been listening to Panic! At The Disco lately. Although that’s probably why he thought to tell that story in the first place.

Louis presses play, and the music within the first thirty seconds has Harry sitting up and staring at the phone. Once the song properly starts, an expression takes over Harry’s face unlike anything Louis’s ever seen. He’s radiant himself, like the sun is bouncing off his face and onto Louis. His mouth is dropped open the tiniest bit, spit-shiny and pink, which makes Louis want to bite it, and his eyes are unfocused and glassy. Overall the image of him makes Louis very uncomfortable in the best way.

The song finishes, and Louis presses pause before the next one starts. Harry looks at him, and his eyes shine with tears. He wipes his eyes and says, “That was unbelievable. The quality of the sound, I’ve never heard… And the song, it was beautiful. In every way. Louis, I _loved_ that.”

He looks so earnest and genuinely happy. Louis’s heart aches.

“I could play the rest of the album, if you like.”

Harry nods rapidly. “ _Please_ ,” he says, like he’s desperate. Louis shudders out a breath and presses play on the first track.

They lie back in the grass and watch the sky. The colours shift, blue and green, purple and pink, directly over their head, while they listen to music that Louis has always felt is a little bit magical. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever felt so content.

Behind The Sea.

 _a daydream spills from my corked head, breaks free of my wooden neck_ _  
_ _left to nod over sleeping waves, like bobbing bait for bathing cod_  
_floating flocks of candled swans slowly drift across wax ponds_

 

Wonderland affects Louis in a weird way. He’s more or less adjusted to it; he misses things - of course he does, mostly the internet, caffeine, and Netflix - but not very much. All of the magic of Wonderland more than makes up for the lack of first world luxuries. His biggest issue is actually that he feels like he needs to adjust his behaviour.

He wants to swear less, he wants to speak softer. He wants to be more wholesome. He’s not sure if it’s because he came here as a child, but there’s something about Wonderland that reminds Louis of child-like wonder and purity. He doesn’t want to ruin it.

So the fact that he can’t stop thinking about how much he’d like to take off Harry’s magical suit and lick his ever-moving tattoos is a problem. Most of his thoughts about Harry feel wildly inappropriate, completely contrary to the impression he gets from everyone else here. He doesn’t know how he can exist here, when every day he’s pining for something no one else seems to want.

♠♥♦♣

Niall’s got a day off, and he’s insisting they all go to the lake, all five boys and Gemma too.

“I’m the _princess_ ,” Gemma says at breakfast. “I can’t be messing about in a grubby lake with a pack of ugly boys.”

“Hey,” says Harry, and Niall laughs.

“C’mon, yer highness, you deserve a day off too,” he says.

“Fine,” Gemma says with a sigh, and then she smiles and winks. Louis thinks she was only arguing for the sake of it.

After breakfast, they pick up Liam and Zayn from the Sequoia, and then head into the Tulgey Wood, which is darker than anywhere Louis’s been yet.

“It’s to protect it,” Harry says. “If people are scared of Tulgey Wood, they won’t go traipsing through it, hurting the fairies.”

“The what now?” Louis says. He thinks he remembers something about fairies from when he was a child, but he can’t be sure, and Harry just smiles mysteriously.

He finds out soon enough. They’re deep into Tulgey Wood, walking in utter darkness, when Louis sees the first little blue light. And then a green light. And then a pink, and a purple, and a yellow, and as they walk on, they see more and more, until they come to an overgrown glen. The sun is shining in, the unkempt grass and trees a brilliant green, and there are fairies everywhere.

“Holy crap,” Louis says. Fairies zip through the air, landing on Harry’s shoulder and in his hair. One perches on Zayn’s quiff. “They seem happy to see us.”

“Of course,” Harry says. “We’re their friends.”

They spend a great deal of time in the glen. Niall and Gemma are talking animatedly, Harry is having a serious discussion with a fairy, and Liam and Zayn are whispering to each other. Something about it stands out to Louis, the way those two interact. They’re so goddamn soft with each other, so gentle. It’s weird, because Louis’s seen no other hints of romantic relationships existing in Wonderland, but it seems like Liam and Zayn are together.

Maybe they’re, like, platonic soulmates. Louis resolves to ask Harry about it.

There's a path off the glen leading to a lake, and before long they’ve wandered down to the shore. And there - Louis can’t believe his eyes - there are real life, honest-to-God _mermaids_. They’re all different colours, shapes, and sizes, with brightly coloured hair and scales. They range from traditionally gorgeous to faintly terrifying with large fangs. Every single one of them is beautiful.

Louis is mesmerised. He sits down on the river bank and watches them. Harry and Gemma have waded into the water and they’re chatting away with a handful of mermaids, and Louis can see the mermaid on Harry’s arm practically backflipping with excitement. Zayn and Liam are sitting together, further down the riverbank. And Niall plops down next to Louis.

“S’amazing, innit,” Niall says. “Couldn’t believe me eyes, first time I saw this place.”

Louis shakes his head in wonder. “It’s incredible,” he says. “Beautiful.”

Fairies are still whizzing through the air, and there’s a genuine goddamn mermaid giggling a few feet away from him. It’s unbelievable.

“Mhm,” Niall says, and they sit in silence for a bit until he says, “So.”

“So?” Louis repeats.

“So,” Niall says. He shifts back on his arms, looking totally at ease. “I just want ya to know, I like you.”

Louis frowns in confusion. “Thanks?”

“And I’m glad you’re back,” Niall says. “I can already see the difference in Harry. He’s so much happier with you around.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Well, that’s really nice. I’m glad.”

They sit in silence again, but it’s comfortable. At least, Louis’s comfortable, and they’re both distracted enough with the mermaids. Laughter comes from where Zayn and Liam are sitting and it prompts Louis to ask about it.

“What’s going on between Zayn and Liam? Like, are they together, or…?”

“Oh,” Niall says, looking a bit surprised. “Yeah, they’re together. Obviously. They’ve been together for years now.”

“Oh,” Louis says, taken aback. It’s what he thought, but it also isn’t at all. “So that’s… like, romantic relationships are a thing here, then?”

“Well, yeah,” Niall says with a laugh.

“I haven’t seen any!” Louis says defensively, and Niall stops laughing.

“Right, yeah, you wouldn’t’ve met Robin,” Niall says softly. “He was Queen Anne’s husband. They were together for about ten years, but he passed away last year. It was an accident, it really shook everyone up. People aren’t supposed to die here.”

Louis’s heart sinks like a stone. “That’s so horrible,” he says, looking over at Harry and Gemma.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “And I guess romantic relationships _are_ less common here, just because there’s less people, I think. Less chance to meet someone. And Harry and Gemma are both tragically, perpetually single, so it makes sense you’d be confused.”

“What about you?” Louis asks, because he’s getting a mixture of vibes from Niall and he can’t pinpoint which is accurate. “Are you into Gemma? Or…”

Niall’s eyes widen. “No!” he cries, maybe a bit too fast. “No, I’m, um, I’m asexual, so. I’m the thing you thought everyone was.” He laughs nervously, and Louis just wants to protect him.

“Cool,” Louis says. “Is there a big ace community here, then?”

“Pretty big, yeah,” Niall says, smiling like he’s relieved. “We’ve got a support group on Wednesday nights. I mostly go for the Mad Hatter’s crumb cake.”

It’s interesting, to say the least. Louis sort of feels like Niall has opened his eyes. If there’s an asexual community, that means everyone else is sexual. Like him. He’s not an anomaly here.

“Lou!” Harry yells, and Louis looks over at him. He’s gesturing to come closer, so Louis scoots to the edge of the lake.

“Now you can pull him in and drown him,” says one of the scarier looking mermaids, and Louis tries not to flinch.

Harry laughs. “Now, now, Marina,” he says. “We’re not drowning him. He’s a good one.” The mermaids whisper to one another, Louis hopes not about pulling him under anyway, and then Harry introduces Louis to the mermaids by name, all of which he almost instantly forgets.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you,” says one of the prettiest ones. Harry introduced her last, so Louis remembers her name is Lana. “We’ve heard stories for forever.”

Louis chats with her for a while; turns out she’s Harry’s best mermaid friend, and she has a lot of endearing stories to tell. But Louis’s somewhat preoccupied; it’s really starting to sink in that Harry has talked him up to every creature and their mother. What does that _mean_?

When they were young, on Louis’s first few trips to Wonderland, he remembers Harry being very happy to show him around and introduce him to everyone. He remembers vividly how enthusiastic Harry was, how he’d introduce Louis to absolutely absurd things with the same enthusiasm and inflection as the most mundane parts of his life. Harry’s tiny baby voice floats through Louis’s head, like pieces of memory stitched together - _‘This is my disappearing cat, this is my favourite pink shirt, this is my sister Gemma, this is my favourite moss covered rock, this is my talking mouse friend, this is my garden of flower aunties, I love them.’_ He distinctly remembers Harry saying at one point, as if the two things were comparable in importance, _‘oh yeah this is my mummy, she’s the queen. Did you see my mossy rock?’_

Harry was in love with life, with every sweet and interesting creature he met, and Louis thinks it makes perfect sense that he treated Louis with the same enthusiasm he treated talking flowers and his favourite shirt. When Harry loves something, he loves it, and he wants to show it off.

It makes Louis’s chest swell to think that Harry loves him so much that he’s proud of him, wants to share him with everyone else in his life. He clearly made a huge impact on Harry when they were kids, and it’s incredibly gratifying, especially with the fucking depth of his feelings for Harry.

After talking with Niall, though, his brain is now stuck on how wrong he’d been. They do have romantic relationships here. But Harry hasn’t made a move, hasn’t indicated to Louis that he’s interested in him like that at all. And now, Louis thinks he might be more heart-broken than before. It wasn’t so bad when he thought falling in love just wasn’t done here - but now he has to face the probability that Harry is capable of that, he just hasn’t fallen for _Louis_.

God, that’s much worse.

♠♥♦♣

After a few hours of lazing in the sun, during most of which Louis watches Harry frolick in the water with the mermaids and agonises, Niall suggests they go and see The Tweedle Show. Louis doesn’t know what that is, but he’s up for it. They leave the darkness of the Tulgey Wood quite quickly, which must mean they aren’t going back the way they came, but there’s still a lot of walking. It dawns on Louis that this is entirely because of him - everyone else here can teleport.

“I’m so sorry lads,” he says, too distraught to even acknowledge that he’s just called Gemma, a bloody princess, a lad. “You’ve had to do all this walking because of me.”

“It’s nice to get the exercise,” says Harry cheerfully, quick to reassure him. “And to see parts of Wonderland we usually miss. Isn’t that right, everyone?”

Zayn and Gemma grumble along with him, but Liam enthusiastically agrees. “I wish we walked everywhere,” he says.

“Alright pal, that’s pushing it,” Niall says, and then they come upon a sign that reads ‘ _THE TWEEDLE SHOW - presented by Tweedledee and Tweedledum_ ’. The letters are crooked, like they were written by a child.

This is pinging at Louis’s memory as well. Just those names. He can’t quite grasp why.

“C’mon, let’s go and get seats,” says Liam, and they each have to pay a pebble to a large lizard in exchange for a ticket. Luckily Niall picked up enough pebbles for them all at the lake; at least _someone_ thought ahead.

They take their seats amidst a group of chattering mice, three foxes, a rabbit and a deer. There are two short, fat men standing in front of everyone, wearing matching striped shirts, suspenders, and red pants, looking for all the world like something Louis thought was fashionable in 2011. They’re Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Louis knows. He remembers them.

“Why doesn’t anyone here ever seem to age?” Louis asks Harry, who shushes him.

The Tweedle Show takes place on a tree stump, set up like a stage. There are tiny people on the stage, and even tinier oysters. It’s like a TV-sized play, like people have shrunk to the size of a telly just to put on a performance. Louis loves the concept already.

“Today, we present our most horrific, darkest story yet,” the Tweedles say in unison, and then they launch into a tale about a walrus and a carpenter manipulating oysters and eating them.

Halfway through, Liam snorts and elbows Louis. “Doesn’t the Walrus remind you of Simon Cowell?” he whispers, and Louis has to make an effort not to laugh out loud.

“Wow,” Louis says. The Walrus is manipulative and evil, and he’s also essentially an ugly old man. “He really does.”

The play gets intense, the oysters are about to be murdered, and Harry grabs Louis’s hand. When Louis looks at him, he finds him watching the stage through his fingers, his other hand over his face. It’s hopelessly endearing.

And, God help him, Louis just can’t give up on him.

Neopolitan Dreams.

 _I turn my head up to the sky, I focus one thought at a time_ _  
_ _I do not let the little thieves under my tightly buttoned sleeves_ _  
_ _you couldn't be a longer time, I feel like I am walking blind_  
_I have nowhere I'll have time, there are no legible signs_

 

At breakfast the next day, Harry tells Louis he has commitments to attend to.

“You’re welcome to come too,” he says. “Or you can do whatever you want. Track down one of the boys, or just explore on your own.”

Louis nods, cutting into his jigglyfruit. “What d’you have to do?”

“Well, first, I have my regularly scheduled volunteering, at the Respite Centre. You could come to that. And then I have to meet with different members of the Royal Council, which I’m sure you’d find dreadfully boring.”

Louis hums as he chews. God, jigglyfruit is amazing, like a whole pack of Starbursts exploding on his tongue, and it’s actually nutritious and _good_ for him. What the fuck. “Sounds good,” he says after he swallows. “I’m in.”

Harry smiles at him, obviously pleased, and digs into his own breakfast.

♠♥♦♣

The Respite Centre is a care facility, where people who aren’t able to live on their own are cared for. Louis is expecting to meet a lot of disabled people. Who he meets is not at all what he was picturing.

First of all, the centre is managed by a gryphon. A fucking _gryphon_. He’s at least seven feet tall, his head brushing the ceiling, and he has the head of an eagle, with large wings to match, and the body of a lion. He’s so large, Louis wonders how he manages to move around this facility.

(He asks Harry after the gryphon leaves them to it, and Harry giggles and whispers conspiratorially that he mostly stays in his office.)

Secondly, there are a few human patients, and a few animals, but overwhelming, the patients are a species Louis’s never seen before. They’re cards. Playing cards. They have human heads, arms and legs, but their bodies are a paper card with different suits and numbers on them. There seem to be more Hearts than anything else.

Louis isn’t sure what his face is doing as they stand there in the rec area. They’re waiting on a nurse to assign them to patients, but Louis just can’t stop staring at the Two of Hearts sitting with a Seven of Clubs. He wonders if Wonderland will ever stop surprising him.

“There’s that flabbergasted look again,” Harry says quietly with a cheeky smile. “They’re Card People.”

“There’s so many of them here,” Louis says softly.

“Yes, well,” Harry says, his voice a whisper. “They were born in Wonderland, which makes them predisposed to madness, especially if they’re treated badly. And the Red Queen, well, she used Card People as her servants. She treated them cruelly, and they lived in constant fear of being beheaded. She didn’t see them as people.”

Louis watches the way the Two of Hearts’ hands shake as he holds a cup of tea. “So she drove a whole species to madness?”

Harry nods. “She almost wiped them out, actually. Most of the Card People left live here, because they’re not stable enough to take care of themselves. There are a few who live on their own, who are okay, but not many.”

Louis’s heart aches. “God, that’s awful.”

Harry looks at him softly. “I know,” he says, and then a nurse finds them. She looks a bit flustered, her fur all ruffled. Because she’s a meerkat. A human-sized meerkat.

“Hello, Your Highness,” she says. “So sorry for the delay.”

“Not a problem,” says Harry cheerily. “This is my friend Louis, he was hoping to help me today. Louis, this is Natalie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Louis says, and Natalie gives him a smile, though she looks too busy to care about him very much.

“Always happy to have extra hands,” Natalie says. “Now, Sire, I’ve got you booked in for the King of Spades, the Queen of Hearts, the Queen of Diamonds, and the Jack of Hearts. Then we thought we’d have a group gathering at the end.”

“Sounds perfect,” Harry says with a smile, and they’re shooed off to the King of Spades’ room.

“I always have little one-on-one chats with the Royal Card People,” Harry explains on the way. “They were treated the worst by the Red Queen, especially the Hearts. She thought her place was to rule them, see; she imprisoned the Queen of Hearts and she murdered the King. So I like to give them special attention when I can, because they deserve to be treated like royalty. They deserve respect.”

Louis nods. He’s both horrified and completely on board with Harry.

The King of Spades reminds Louis of an old man who was once important and is now irrelevant. He has dozens of stories, horror stories from his days serving the Red Queen, but also magnificent tales of his time before her, ruling the Spades. Harry engages with him fully, acts as though his stories are meaningful and helpful. He even defers to him, as if he’s nobler than Harry, the actual Prince of Wonderland.

Louis loves him all the more for it.

The Queen of Hearts and the Queen of Diamonds are together, and although it’s impossible to guess their ages by looking at them, they fuss over Harry the way grandmothers would. The Queen of Hearts is also weak, like a grandmother, she very clearly has liminal energy and she often stops in her sentences, having lost her train of thought. The Queen of Hearts is sweet, and the Queen of Diamonds is sharper, protective of her. Louis had originally thought they were in this room together to save Harry time, but now he thinks they might room together. They’re obviously very close.

Harry loves them. They flirt with him the way old ladies would, cheeky but harmless, and he flirts back. It’s the first time Louis’s actually seen him flirt, but it’s like he’s in his element, being cheeky and charming.

“So, young man,” the Queen of Diamonds says to Louis quietly at one point, when Harry’s distracted by the Queen of Hearts. “What are your intentions with our dear Harry?”

Louis stares at her, caught off guard. “Um,” he says. “We’re friends?”

The Queen of Diamonds scoffs. “I see the way you look at him,” she snips. “I may be old, and I may be mad, but I’m not blind.”

Louis is literally lost for words.

“My question is, are you going to treat that boy the way he deserves?” she continues. “He’s such a sweetheart, coming in here at least once a week, treating us like we _matter_. He’s a precious soul and I won’t have you hurting him.”

“I have no intention to,” Louis says, because that he’s sure of. “You’re right, he’s a sweetheart. He deserves the best.”

The Queen of Diamonds frowns at him, like she can tell he doesn’t think that’s him, like she’s confused by him thinking that.

Louis sighs. “I promise,” he says. “I love him. I won’t hurt him.”

She softens, finally, and pats his hand. “Good boy,” she says. “I have high hopes for you.”

Louis swallows a sudden lump in his throat. “Thanks,” he says softly.

The Jack of Hearts is an entirely different experience. He’s young, cheeky, flirty, extremely suggestive with Harry. Louis is almost annoyed by it. Harry goes along with it, flirts back like it’s all harmless fun, but this isn’t like it was with the Queens. There’s intent behind everything the Jack says, and it makes Louis uncomfortable.

At least there’s no intent on Harry’s side. Louis doesn’t ever want to see Harry flirt with someone with intent. It might kill him.

Luckily, their time with the Jack is cut short, as Nurse Natalie comes in to tell them everyone’s gathered in the courtyard.

Harry leads a few singalongs of songs Louis doesn’t recognise, and then they mingle about, eating biscuits and drinking tea, and then it’s time to leave.

“Natalie likes to act as though I’m so helpful,” Harry says as they walk away from the centre. “But really, I just hang out with them. Talk to them, keep them company.” He shrugs.

“It’s so good,” Louis says. “I bet that’s _so_ helpful. You treat them with respect, like they matter, in a world where everyone’s dismissed them. It’s really lovely, Harry.”

He looks over just in time to see Harry duck his head, his cheeks flushed and his smile pleased. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “I’m glad you get it, Lou. I, um. I hoped you’d like meeting them. I’m glad you came with me.”

“So am I,” says Louis. “I feel like I understand this place a bit better. And I just - it feels good, volunteering. It’s been too long.”

“Well, we can go back any time you like,” Harry says. “Just let me know.” Then he looks at his big, ornate, rose gold watch and sighs. “I’d better get back to the palace and meet with the Council.” He looks back at Louis. “I don’t think you’d be interested, it’s usually really dull for the most part. If you want to do something else, you can.”

Louis doesn’t even get the impression that Harry doesn’t want him there, just that he doesn’t want Louis to be bored, when this is clearly Royal business that Louis probably isn’t allowed to be privy to anyway.

“Yeah, okay,” he says with a small laugh. “Well, I might try to find Liam or Zayn, then. D’you think they’ll be nearby?”

“Liam’s a Knight, he’s probably at the palace,” Harry says. “If I’ve got meetings today, so does he. But we’re near Alan’s mushroom, you could look there for Zayn. Actually, I could go with you, I’ll have time to get back if I pop over instead of walking.”

Louis smiles. “Yeah, alright,” he says. Maybe he’ll be able to smoke some more of that magical weed.

♠♥♦♣

Harry’s right, Zayn is at the mushroom. He’s three inches tall again, lying on top of the mushroom with his eyes closed. It makes sense that he shrinks himself to hang out here; the mushroom is bigger than average, but it’s still only about the size of a teapot.

“Hey, Zayn,” Harry says in a quiet voice, presumably not to scare him.

Zayn starts anyway, then relaxes when he sees them. “Oh, it’s only you,” he yells to them.

“Lovely to see you too,” Louis says.

Zayn yawns, then smiles. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’ve got meetings with the Council today, so Louis thought he might visit you.”

“Oh, I see,” says Zayn, sitting up. “You only want to visit me when _Harry’s_ busy. I get it.”

Louis scoffs and rolls his eyes. He bends over and pulls out a handful of grass, then sprinkles it over Zayn’s head. He bats away a shower of grass crossly, and Harry giggles.

“Obviously everyone comes second to Harry,” Louis says. “Keep up.”

Harry’s giggles turn into something softer, pure sweetness in his eyes. Louis wants to kiss him so fucking badly.

“Alright, fine,” Zayn says grumpily. When Louis looks at him, he’s got his hand in the air. “You’ll need to eat this if you’re going to hang out here.”

“Right,” Louis says, taking the tiny piece of mushroom from him. Then he turns to Harry. “I’ll see you later, then, cutie.” He winks just before he pops the mushroom in his mouth, and the rush of shrinking coupled with the look on Harry’s face makes him feel like he’s full of butterflies.

“See you later Lou,” Harry says softly, and then he disappears.

“You two are ridiculous,” Zayn says. “C’mon, get up here.”

Louis struggles with climbing onto the mushroom for a solid five minutes, Zayn watching him and laughing, until he finds a toadstool around the side and uses that for leverage. Zayn’s still laughing as Louis hauls himself up.

“You’re a bastard,” Louis says, and Zayn keeps chuckling.

“Sorry,” he says. “That was priceless.”

Louis frowns at him until Zayn offers him the pipe in apology.

♠♥♦♣

They don’t get stoned enough to float, instead they’re somewhere between level one and two, just out of it, seeing brighter colours and feeling things more. Zayn keeps blowing smoke shapes into the air, except he’s not actually smoking. It’s like he’s conjuring the smoke out of the air.

“How are you doing that?” Louis asks. “Do you have smoke magic?”

Zayn chuckles. “No,” he says. “I have Tattoo Magic. This is just something Alan taught me.”

Tattoo Magic sounds cool, and also, now Louis wants Zayn to teach him, but instead of saying either of those things, he flops down onto his back. “When d’you think I’ll get my magic?”

“It usually takes a while,” Zayn says. “Could be months. Could be less.”

Louis groans. “And when will I be able to teleport?”

“A few more weeks, I think,” Zayn says.

“That’s the most annoying thing,” Louis says. “Because I have to walk, and none of you have to. I’m making your lives so much harder.”

“You know no one minds, don’t you?” Zayn says. “It’s really not a hardship. And we like being with you, so it’s fine.”

Louis smiles at him, the sincerity in his voice making him feel loads better.

“Plus, I mean, Harry would murder us if we just teleported and left you behind,” Zayn says, and Louis snorts.

“Harry would never even yell at you.”

“No, but he’d get in a strop,” Zayn says. “That’s worse.”

Louis laughs, but he thinks the idea of Harry in a strop is cute. God help him.

“So,” Louis says. “Tell me more about yourself. What do you do all day?”

Zayn shrugs. “You’re looking at it, babe.”

“Really?” Louis says. It seems like everyone else has jobs here - Niall’s a chef, Liam’s a knight, Harry and Gemma are royal - but Zayn doesn’t have to work?

“I just do what I wanna do,” Zayn says. “If I ever need money, I charge people for tattoos. But, like, harvesting the mushroom - and the weed - helping Alan out with that, that’s basically my job. I just don’t do very much, very often.”

“So what _do_ you do?”

“Smoke,” Zayn says. “Chill out. I like to paint, so. I usually get stoned and paint. And then I go home to Liam.” Zayn shrugs again. “It’s good. Some people need jobs, like, need the stability. Need to feel useful. Liam and Niall are like that. I’m just good chilling. I don’t deal well with pressure, or like, people needing me to do things.”

Louis smiles. He loves that. Loves that Zayn can have this life, so unlike what he’d have in the other world, probably. Money is more important there. Here, he can just _be_.

“I love that.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Zayn says. “I’m much happier here than I was back in the other world.”

Louis rolls over, propping himself on his elbow and looking up at Zayn. “Why’s that?” he asks. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna tell me. I’m just curious.”

“It’s okay,” Zayn says, but he’s not making eye contact anymore. His violet aura is dimming to a smoky grey, which Louis hasn’t seen happen before. The other day, all of their auras were fixed. “When I was seventeen, my family was in a car accident. My parents and my three sisters, they all died.”

Louis feels shock ripple through him. He didn’t expect that. He didn’t - he can’t imagine it. Losing his mum was horrible enough - he can’t imagine losing his entire family.

“I’m so sorry,” Louis says, trying to put everything he feels into those words. “That’s just - unfathomably awful. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

Zayn shakes his head, his aura still a purpley grey. “No, it’s alright,” he says. “But, yeah. It was just, horrible doesn’t describe it. I felt like I died, too. Like my whole life was taken from me.” He stops talking for a few moments. “Wonderland appeared to me, and it wasn’t even a choice. I had nothing to stay there for, and here I had Liam, Harry, and Niall.” He takes a deep breath. “Sometimes I pretend that they’re still alive. Just in the other world.”

It’s so fucking _sad_ , Louis can hardly stand it. “I get that. I, um. My mum passed two years ago,” he says, and Zayn finally looks at him. There’s a bottomless depth of feeling in his eyes. “I’m still not okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay. But she, um, she loved the moon, and the stars. And now, sometimes when I look at the moon, I feel like I can feel her watching me.” He smiles softly. “It’s nice.”

Zayn nods. “S’why I smoke so much,” he says. “I feel closer to them, somehow. Makes my memories stronger, and it doesn’t hurt as much.”

Louis gets that.

“Hey, speaking of smoking,” Zayn says in a lighter voice. “How’re your headaches? Your cravings? Still bad?”

Huh. Louis shakes his head. “I haven’t actually noticed any headaches,” he says. Zayn had given him tobacco spun with weed again today, but he hadn’t been craving it. “Or cravings. Like, smoking today, it’s scratched an itch I wasn’t fully aware of.”

“Good,” Zayn says. “I thought that might happen. I think if you smoke spin every now and then, you’ll be fine. I was a heavy smoker as a teenager, but I don’t get cravings anymore. Wonderland changes you.”

That’s good to know. Louis’s wanted to give up smoking for ages anyway. If Wonderland forces him to quit, all the better.

♠♥♦♣

They sit for ages, alternating between talking and just sitting, mellow in their high. Zayn gets out his paints at one point, and Louis thinks about trying to paint with him, but decides to do that another day. Right now, he’s missing Harry, so he pulls out his phone.

His phone is on 4%, which is quite devastating actually. He’ll be sad when it’s dead. He only uses it for two things, but those two things are very important.

The first is showing Harry music. Harry loves music, all music, and he’s obsessed with every song Louis’s ever shown him. They’ve spent every night in either Harry’s room or Louis’s, listening to the music on Louis’s phone. Louis wishes he had a larger library, or access to Spotify, to really blow Harry’s mind, but Harry’s content with the music they have. It’s eaten up Louis’s battery like crazy, though.

The other thing Louis uses his phone for is taking photos of Harry. He’s got a collection, now - photos taken when Harry wasn’t paying attention, photos of Harry grinning at the camera, selfies of the two of them. Louis’s favourites are the ones where Harry doesn’t know he’s being photographed, because he’s just being himself. He’s so photogenic, he shines right through the screen.

Harry’s taken a large amount of photos himself, he loves photography and he’s fascinated by how fast and easy it is to take photos on Louis’s phone. The other day, he’d asked if Louis remembers the camera he used to have, and then he pulled out a scrapbook full of pictures of him and Louis as children.

“This is how I kept you with me, after you left,” Harry had said softly, touching the book with reverence. Louis’s heart was so full.

_‘Make sure you sit still,’ Harry said, his little voice bossy and petulant. He’d sat Louis beside the window, where the sunlight hit him just right, and he was fussing with a big camera. Louis had never seen a camera so big before. It looked strange, too, more like a big black box._

_‘I am,’ Louis said, even though he was fidgeting a bit. He always fidgeted, he couldn’t help that. ‘And you needn’t worry, Hazza. Just press the button.’_

_Harry looked at him like he was mad, but didn’t argue. He pressed something on the camera, then hurried over to Louis. Louis had seen self-timing cameras before, so he thought they just had to wait a moment until it was taken._

_But a moment passed, and then another one, and Harry was still sitting frozen beside him. The camera hadn’t done anything._

_‘Harry,’ Louis said out of the corner of his mouth, trying to be still just in case. ‘Why are we still sitting here?’_

_‘We’re getting our photo taken,’ Harry said, his lips almost closed. ‘Shh.’_

_Louis didn’t understand. ‘But you just click the button and then the photo’s taken. It doesn’t take this long.’_

_Harry frowned. ‘Yes it does,’ he said. ‘Stop talking, you’re gonna ruin it!’_

_Louis stopped talking, because Harry was so insistent, but personally he thought Harry’s camera might be broken. Finally, the camera flashed, and Harry jumped up._

_‘It’s done!’ he cried happily._

_Harry and Louis took lots more photos together, photos of each other, photos of them dressed up in Gemma’s clothes or wearing flower crowns. The photos were usually perfect, but the first one came out blurred, with matching confused expressions on both their faces._

Louis smiles at his phone, at the photos he’d taken of the scrapbook, just in case something happened to it. He remembers Harry’s big old camera, how it took ten minutes to process the photo, like something out of 1837. It took Louis so long to get used to it, and Harry was always so insistent and careful. He loved taking photos and he always wanted them to be perfect.

Louis flicks back through his camera roll until he finds photos Harry has taken. They’re better than Louis’s photos, framed better, taken with more care, but they just make Louis remember Harry’s glee each time he’d taken them. It consistently boggled his mind that it only took a second to take a photo, and Louis was overwhelmed by adoration, every time.

He smiles at his phone and then looks at Zayn, who’s engrossed in his painting. Louis thinks he might actually talk to Zayn about this one day. Not today, not yet, but he could see himself spilling all of his Harry feelings out onto Zayn. He’s good to talk to.

Louis goes back to his phone, and as he’s looking through the photos again, the screen goes black. He thumbs at the home button, but nothing happens. Shit. It’s finally died.

His heart sinks, and all he can think of is how disappointed Harry’s going to be that he can’t listen to music anymore.

Louis cradles his phone to his chest, feeling thoroughly disheartened. He wishes so badly that he could keep his phone powered forever; Harry gets so much joy out of listening to music and taking photos. Louis wants him to always be happy, and this phone makes him happy. It’s unfair that they have to lose it.

Then it vibrates. Louis’s heart actually jumps, and he tilts it back up to see the ‘Enter Passcode’ screen. He keys in his passcode and his phone unlocks. It’s sitting on 73%.

“Oh my God,” he says, in awe. “Oh my _God_. Zayn. I think I just did magic.”

Zayn’s head snaps up, and when Louis explains, although Zayn barely remembers the concept of mobile phones, he beams. “Wow, you did. That’s, like, unheard of, I think. It’s so soon.”

“What does it mean? What kind of magic do you think I have?” Louis asks, looking at his phone in wonder.

“I dunno,” says Zayn. “I guess… something technology based? Maybe Science Magic?”

“Hmm,” Louis says, turning over his phone. He tries willing it to do something, but nothing happens.

“Our magic is always stronger after smoking weed,” Zayn says thoughtfully. “Maybe, if you really wanted something, being high might’ve given your magic a kickstart.”

If he really wanted something. Well, yeah, he really fucking wanted his phone to work. For Harry. He wonders if it was because it was _for Harry_ , because of the strength of his feelings.

Louis lies back on the mushroom and spends the rest of his time with Zayn trying to get his magic to do anything else, with no success.

♠♥♦♣

Some incalculable amount of time later, after the sun has set, Louis is ready to leave. Except he’s not entirely sober, and he hates the idea of walking all the way back to the palace. He wishes he could teleport.

“Wait a minute,” Zayn says, then puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. A giant bird appears - except it’s not really giant, Louis realises, he’s just small. It looks like a blackbird, only its feathers are fuschia.

“Hey, Zayn,” chirps the bird in a whistling sort of voice.

“Hey,” Zayn says. “D’you think you could take my friend here back to the palace? Please?”

The fuschiabird looks at Louis appraisingly. “Yeah,” it says. “If he stays that size.”

“He will,” Zayn says, then he grins at Louis. “There you are, bro.”

“Thank you,” says Louis, astounded. He’s about to ride a fucking bird! “I didn’t realise you were friends with birds.”

Zayn laughs. “Spend as much time floating in the clouds as I do, you get to be friends with a lot of birds.”

“I guess you would, yeah,” says Louis. “Well, thanks for having me today. I had a really good time.”

Zayn smiles. “Me too,” he says. “You can come back anytime, you know. Doesn’t have to only be when Harry’s busy.”

“Oh, ha ha,” Louis says. “We’re catching up on lost time, leave us alone.”

Zayn just laughs again and pats him on the back. “D’you need help getting up on Charlie’s back?”

“Fuck off,” Louis says as Zayn laughs some more. “I literally hate you, jesus christ.”

The fuschiabird ends up hovering beside the mushroom so Louis can climb on easily. Louis is perfectly graceful, and Zayn can go fuck himself, because he still cackles.

“See you later bro!” Zayn yells as the fuschiabird takes off.

Louis throws up his middle finger, grinning. “See ya!”

And then he’s just - flying. Riding on the back of the bird. It’s almost better than floating, or at least just as good - he’s going faster, and he’s got something to grab onto. He isn’t just relying on the word of his friends that his body won’t betray him and float into the ether. This bird is meant to fly, and it knows what it’s doing.

It’s fun as hell. Louis feels like he sees all of Wonderland at a glance, and then, all too soon, the fuschiabird is swooping down towards the castle.

Louis’s all wobbly when he gets down, like he’s been on an incredible rollercoaster. “Thank you,” he says to the fuschiabird. “That was amazing.”

The bird nods. “No problem,” it says. “Thanks for not pulling on my feathers.”

Then it turns and takes off. Louis watches until it’s just a speck, and then he takes a piece of mushroom out of his pocket and grows to his normal size.

*

When he finds Harry, it’s like being punched in the face. Louis has so much to tell him, but suddenly he can’t speak, because at some point during the day Harry changed out of the sparkly blue suit he was wearing.

Now he’s wearing a sheer suit. It’s pink lace, like a mix between Louis’s nan’s doilies and lingerie, but it’s a full cut suit. Louis can see all of Harry’s moving tattoos, and while there’s a lot of lace over Harry’s crotch, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Harry floats over to where Louis’s standing, his hair in long glittering ringlets, looking absurdly casual, like he looks perfectly normal, like he’s not giving Louis a heart attack.

He’s beautiful. He’s so fucking beautiful.

Louis is in so much trouble.

“How was your day?” Harry asks with a smile, and Louis chokes on his tongue.

“Good,” he manages. “I - good.”

Harry looks faintly concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I - yeah,” Louis says. His brain won’t form any sentences beyond _you look so good I want to fuck you please please please_.

“Okay,” Harry says, a crease between his eyebrows. “Well, are you hungry? Do you want dinner?”

Louis is entirely starving, but if he’s in the same room as Harry for much longer, he will not survive.

“I, um, actually, I’m a bit tired,” Louis says, his eyes catching on pink lace shifting over Harry’s chest and thighs. His mouth is so dry. “Very tired. I think I need to lie down.”

“Oh,” Harry says, still frowning. “Okay. Well, if you get up later, come and find me?”

“Mhm, I will,” Louis says, knowing he’s going to hide himself away until he no longer runs the risk of seeing Harry in this suit.

As soon as he’s back in his room, Louis wanks for the first time since arriving in Wonderland. He’s still a bit high, his bones languid, and when he closes his eyes all he can see is Harry. Harry’s glittering hair, his skin through pink lace, the dark spots where his ink is, the bulge stretching out the front of his suit. Louis imagines it’s Harry touching him, and he feels it from the tips of his fingers through every nerve ending and down to his toes when he comes.

Violet Hill.

 _bury me in armour, when I’m dead and hit the ground_ _  
_ _my nerves are poles that unfroze_  
_if you love me, won’t you let me know?_

 

The next morning, when Louis tells Harry about his time with Zayn, and specifically about his _phone turning back on_ , Harry is thrilled. And then his face drops into a pout.

Louis almost laughs. “What’s wrong, buttercup?”

Petnames are usually a surefire way to brighten Harry up, but he keeps pouting. “I can’t believe I wasn’t with you the first time you did magic.”

Stupidly, Louis can feel himself getting his hopes up. The problem might be that Harry just loves him so much. Louis never knows if the things he says are platonic or not.

No, that’s not right. Harry loving him could never be a problem, even if he doesn’t love him the way Louis wants.

“I’d’ve loved it if you were,” Louis says.

“I wanted to be involved,” Harry pouts, and Louis wonders if he should tell him that he thinks he was. That he thinks his magic only worked because it was for Harry.

He decides against it. He doesn’t want to come off as too pathetic and desperate.

Then again, a hint might be okay.

“Well, um,” Louis says. “I think it was because of you. I was thinking about how disappointed you’d be without the music and the camera, and then it turned back on.”

Yeah, that’s not so much a hint as it is exactly what happened. But Harry’s head tilts and he finally brightens.

“Really? You think it’s because of me?” He seems almost dazed.

“Yeah,” says Louis. “I mean, I dunno. But it makes sense.” He shrugs. “Zayn said our magic is more powerful when we’re stoned, too.”

Harry nods. “That’s true.” Then he sighs. “Still can’t believe I missed it. This is your first Wonderland milestone!”

Louis smiles. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be there for all my other milestones.”

Harry gives him a tiny smile.

“That’s better,” Louis says. “Now, tell me. What happened yesterday? Did you have a good day, being so Very Important? Was the fate of Wonderland in your hands?”

Harry gives a weak laugh, but mostly he looks tired. “Actually, kinda,” he says. “Well, not really. But things are just… weird, right now. Mum’s been feeling off lately, tired, which isn’t like her. And people keep making ominous comments, there’s been rumours all over the kingdom. About Taylor, d’you remember I told you about her?”

Louis frowns. He vaguely remembers. “The descendant of the Red Queen?”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs. “It looks like she really is planning something, but we have no idea what. So now Mum wants me to train with Liam again. I’m supposed to do that today.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Train? How?”

“With swords,” Harry says glumly. “I’m not very good at it. I’m good with, like, a bow and arrow, but swords are just… too metal. Too pointy.”

“An arrow’s pointy,” Louis points out.

“Yeah,” Harry says, sighing again. “I dunno, it’s all a bit too aggressive for me. But Mum wants me to be prepared.”

“Right,” Louis says. “So I suppose I’ll be watching you swordfight today, then?”

That actually doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Or, you could learn with me,” Harry says, brightening again. Louis can’t keep track of his mood today. “That might make it more fun. And you should probably be prepared.”

Louis frowns. “Am I really in danger?”

Harry sighs. “I think possibly we all are.”

♠♥♦♣

Louis spends the day with Harry and Liam. Liam gives him basic pointers and then makes him practice with an animated hat stand while he focuses on Harry. Louis gives up after a while, the hatstand being too energetic for him, and just watches Harry and Liam instead.

Harry’s not a natural at this by any means, and he’s clearly uncomfortable, but Louis’s a primitive boy, and he still thinks Harry looks hot with a sword in his hand. He watches for a while, longer than a normal friend would, probably, unless they were very interested in swords. He just can’t tear his eyes away.

He’s only distracted when he hears singing. It’s a male voice, beautiful, Louis can’t make out the words but he can hear the soft melody. The sound comes closer until it’s almost as loud as the swords clashing, and then it stops.

Louis turns in the direction of it and sees a stout ginger-haired man. His clothes are odd, medieval looking, loose pants tucked into long brown boots and a hooded cape. He looks alarmed, like he hadn’t expected to run into people.

“Hi,” says Louis.

Ginger Lad looks from Louis over to Liam and Harry, and he relaxes. “Hi,” he says. “Who’re you?”

Louis twists his mouth, thinking that one day he’d like to be the first to ask someone that. “I’m Louis.”

“Wait,” Ginger Lad says, looking back at Harry. “Harry’s Louis?”

Louis bursts out laughing, he can’t help it. Ginger Lad looks confused, but Louis’s just so amused. Of course he knows Harry - and of _course_ Harry’s talked about Louis to him. Of course.

“Sorry, yeah,” he says. “That’s me.”

Ginger Lad smiles. “I’m Ed,” he says. “I’d heard you were around. Chuffed to finally meet you.”

Louis smiles back. “What was that you were singing? Sounded lovely.”

“Oh,” Ed says, then breaks into a few lines of a song Louis doesn’t know. His voice is gorgeous, though, soft and heart-wrenching.

“That’s beautiful, mate,” Louis says, and Ed flushes.

“Thanks,” he says, and then Harry yells his name, and he and Liam are coming over.

“I guess we’re taking a break,” Liam grumbles.

“Shh, it’s Ed,” Harry says. “Ed! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Mm,” Ed agrees. “I was visiting Taylor.”

Louis watches Harry’s face drop. “Oh,” he says, clearly struggling to be neutral. “How is she?”

“Not good,” Ed says solemnly. “It’s bad, Harry. I barely recognise her anymore.”

Harry sighs. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah. And she’s got some grand plan. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, because,” Ed pauses, swallowing thickly. “Because she said she doesn’t trust me anymore.”

“Oh, Ed,” Harry says, entirely sympathetic even though they’re talking about his enemy. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”

Ed heaves a deep sigh. “Yeah,” he says. “So, I dunno. At least I can tell you to be prepared.”

They chat for a while, but there’s a sombre mood in the air, and Liam and Harry go back to training rather quickly.

“So,” Louis says. “You’re friends with Taylor?”

“I was,” Ed corrects. “When she first came here. I’m a bard, you see, and I travel all over Wonderland playing my songs for people. I was miles away when I met her, west of here, where people from America usually show up.”

“Oh,” Louis says. “Is she American, then?”

He’s never been very good at geography, but he must say he finds the odd geography of Wonderland rather fascinating.

“Yeah,” Ed says. “Do you want to hear the whole story, then?”

Louis does. So they sit in the grass, and Ed starts talking.

When Ed met Taylor, she was with her girlfriend Dianna. They were teenagers, and they’d come from some redneck town in Tennessee, where they faced brutal homophobia. They were terrified for their safety, and Wonderland was their escape. Ed says things were good for a while, Taylor and Dianna travelled around with him, Ed taught Taylor the lute. But things started getting strange; the environment changed a lot, because Dianna was keeping a secret. She’d never really accepted Wonderland, didn’t really want to be there. She felt like she didn’t fit, and because of her anxiety, Wonderland _became_ her fears. They’d get lost in dark forests full of menacing trees, and the next they’d be safe because Taylor or Ed had calmed Dianna down. But they never knew when they were safe. And then one morning, Ed and Taylor woke up and Dianna was gone.

They couldn’t find her, and could only assume she’d gone back home. And Taylor lost her mind. Ed says she’s slowly been slipping into madness ever since, and was spurred on by the discovery of her heritage. She was banished years ago for attempting to assassinate Anne, and then people started agreeing with her, people who believed in the dichotomy of the two Queens, or who were too wealthy for Anne to favour.

“I visit her every now and then, because I still care about her,” Ed says. “It’s like visiting a relative with dementia, that’s how different she is, and it’s worse every time, but never as much as this.” He sighs. “It just hurts. She lost the love of her life, and then she lost herself. And there’s nothing I can do.”

Louis thinks Ed is much more sympathetic to Taylor than anybody else would be; he doesn’t seem to think any of this is her fault, like she’s just a victim of circumstance. Louis doesn’t know about that, but it is interesting to speak to someone who actually knows her. She’s less of this menacing presence and more a real person.

♠♥♦♣

Louis spends the days that follow trying to get his magic to work again, with absolutely no luck. His phone battery dwindles, down to 62% now, and he can’t charge it himself. He wonders if maybe he can only recharge it when it’s dead; maybe he doesn’t care enough otherwise, the stakes aren’t high enough. But he’s not going to risk draining his battery to find out.

His magic won’t work on anything else, either. He tries every technology or science based thing he can think of, even tracks down Steve the Royal Geneticist and asks him for advice, to no avail. It’s frustrating.

Meanwhile, Harry’s been training with Liam and the other knights for most of every day. Louis tries to join in, but he just doesn’t think he has the discipline for it, and nobody’s forcing him to do it, so. He focuses on his magic instead. But he and Harry still get to spend pockets of the day together, and Louis tries to drop subtle hints every time, to let Harry know how he feels and to piece together how Harry feels.

They fly over Harry’s head every goddamn time. Louis’s starting to think that subtlety might not be the way to go; Harry seems to need a sledgehammer to get it. Louis should be direct, and he almost wants to, because not knowing is killing him. But the risk is just too terrifying, so he buries it, tries flirting with Harry instead. Harry flirts back, which is delightful, but Louis just can’t tell what his intent is.

He thinks that it’s very possible that Harry just sees him as a friend. A best friend, maybe, but still. Harry’s naturally very flirty, Louis’s realising, just harmlessly flirty with all his friends. It’s quite obvious he never means anything by it, which means that he probably doesn’t mean anything when he flirts with Louis either.

Any sign Louis’s seeing to the contrary is probably just his wishful thinking.

Something Just Like This.

 _I've been reading books of old, the legends and the myths_ _  
_ _the testaments they told, the moon and its eclipse_ _  
_ _and Superman unrolls a suit before he lifts_  
_but I'm not the kind of person that it fits_

 

Louis’s been feeling pretty down for days. He can’t get his feelings for Harry under control, he can’t get his magic to work again, and lately he’s been thinking about how his dad is lurking around Wonderland somewhere. And how his sisters are alone, back home, without him.

He and Harry are sitting in Harry’s garden, surrounded by his flowers, and Harry’s got a rare afternoon off. Louis should be feeling good, but he’s just - gloomy. Things aren’t quite right.

The weather seems to agree with him, with a chill in the air and the sky full of dark and sinister clouds. As sinister as anything rainbow could be. It actually doesn’t feel like summer anymore, Louis realises. It finally feels almost like December. It reminds Louis too much of the life he left behind.

“Should be Christmas soon, back home,” Louis says as it occurs to him. “And my birthday, actually. My sisters will definitely notice I’m gone then, if they haven’t already.”

“Oh,” Harry says, a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Are you… do you want to go back?”

“I don’t know what I want,” Louis admits. “But I miss my sisters. I feel awful for leaving them.”

“I get that,” Harry says. He’s playing with the giant blue bow on his shirt. “I guess I just hoped…”

He trails off, and doesn’t speak again, not even when Louis says, “What?”

Harry just shakes his head.

“I’m glad to be with you,” Louis says, because he can’t have Harry thinking otherwise.

“Yeah,” Harry says. “But that won’t matter when you go home.”

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, frowning. Why is Harry acting as if it’s a foregone conclusion?

“Well, you’ll forget about me,” Harry says. “Like you did before.”

Louis swallows, his chest aching. “I didn’t mean to,” he says miserably.

“I should think it would make the decision easy,” Harry says. “I mean, you did it before. You got to just forget about me. I spent _sixteen years_ hoping you’d come back.”

“This isn’t easy,” Louis says. “I have to choose between my family and my – and _this_. If you think this is easy then you don’t know me at all.”

Harry’s mouth drops open, hurt clear in his eyes. Louis’s heart twinges, but he still feels he’s right. Until Harry says, quietly, “I do know you.” He’s dropped his gaze; Louis can’t see his eyes. “I know how much you love your family. I know it’s hard. But you - you left me before. This wasn’t enough then.”

“I was nine years old, Harry,” Louis says, trying not to sound exasperated. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I chose my mum, because I was _nine_. And frankly, I’m glad I did, I’m glad I had as much time with her as I did.” His voice wobbles as he’s hit with emotion. As much as he loves Harry, he loves and misses his mum. He’ll never get over it, and he’ll never begrudge himself for choosing her.

Harry’s eyes are full of sadness. “I get that,” he says. “I really do, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way. It’s just that." He makes a frustrated noise. "You know, you forgot about me.” He lets out a shaky breath. “I never forgot about you.”

“It’s different here,” Louis argues. “Easier for you to remember. The real world makes you forget.”

Harry sniffs, and he’s clearly fighting back tears. God, Louis hates that he’s made him so upset, but he can’t help from arguing - especially as he feels like Harry isn’t seeing his side.

“This is the real world too,” Harry says quietly. “And if you still don’t see it that way - then you’ve clearly made up your mind.”

Louis desperately wants to comfort him, wants to erase any hurt Harry’s feeling, but at the same time he’s so frustrated. “You’re not listening to me,” he says.

“I am,” Harry says. “I’m listening to what you’re not saying.”

God. Louis wants to shake him. “You’re making assumptions,” he says.

“I have to,” Harry says. “Because you won’t tell me what you’re really thinking.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Louis mutters. “I need to - I’m going for a walk. Before either of us says something we regret.”

“That would require you to say anything at all!” Harry cries as Louis walks away, and Louis’s tempted to go back and explain everything, explain how the only thing he’s keeping to himself is how much he desperately loves Harry and how terrified he is that that will ruin everything. He wants Harry to know that he’d give up everything for him, but in saying that, he feels like he’s actually risking everything.

Louis stews as he walks, until he’s not angry or hurt anymore, just feels a bit sad and lost. He ends up in the castle’s tallest tower, on a balcony, looking out over Wonderland. This could be it. This could be his home. Apparently, he just has to make the choice.

Louis has learnt a lot about Wonderland in the last couple of weeks. He’s learnt that they place a lot of emphasis on astrology; everyone knows their own birth chart, and often they know others as well. It means they have a good understanding of themselves and others and they live their lives catering to their own strengths.

Louis, who only knows that he’s a Capricorn, is bewildered by all of it. It came up the first time Harry heard the Panic! At The Disco song Northern Downpour; he grinned at Louis cheekily after the ‘that fragile Capricorn’ line and said, “Sounds like you.”

“I’m not fucking fragile Harry,” Louis had said, then paused. “Wait. How d’you know I’m a Capricorn?”

Turns out there are centaurs in Wonderland, and if a centaur meets a person one time, they know their birth chart. Louis vaguely remembers meeting a centaur as a child, and Harry confesses to tracking him down as a teenager to find out Louis’s birth chart.

Harry had said he wanted to remember Louis as fully as he could, which Louis still thinks is sweet as hell.

Louis’s biggest gripe with astrology has always been the lack of specificity. He doesn’t think he’s the same as every other person born in December and January. But the way Harry describes it, people are made up of a combination of signs, which make up different areas of their personality. That’s why his sisters are so wildly different, despite both of them being Leos. They’re influenced by other signs in their charts.

Harry’s really into astrology, he says it helps him understand people better, and to be understood by others himself. Louis wasn’t sure he was entirely on board, because he still had questions; what about people who are born in Wonderland? Surely the planetary positions wouldn’t matter to them, if Wonderland is in a whole other dimension?

“Yes, you’re right,” Harry had said. “It’s rare for humans to be born in Wonderland, but anyone born here is Special. They’re a combination of everything, and it means that they’ll either be wildly successful and content, or they’ll succumb to madness.”

Louis knows that explains what happened to the Mad Hatter, as well as the original Red Queen and White Queen, who were two sides of the same coin. It’s why the Card People are all the same, why they’ve suffered so badly.

Louis knows other things about Wonderland. He knows that there’s a path in the Tulgey Woods that leads to a hidden fairy garden and a beautiful lake where real mermaids live. He knows that most people in Wonderland are emotionally fragile, having escaped some kind of trauma or mental illness in the other world. He knows that his magic, if he stays here, will be technology based, and maybe he could use it to pull Wonderland into the twentieth century. He knows there’s trouble brewing, that the new Red Queen wants to start a war, that Wonderland needs a hero.

He knows that most of the people here are wonderful, pure and delicate, charmingly weird, beautifully strange, stardust in a person.

He knows that he isn’t. He’s normal. Too average for a place like this. He belongs in dull, dreary Manchester, facing the prospect of unemployment, moving on from Aiden, his sisters the only love in his life. Harry’s right, he still doesn’t consider this the real world. He doesn’t think he ever could.

He knows that staying here would be the worst kind of escapism, the most horrifically selfish thing he could do. He's not sure he's capable of putting his needs above his sisters' like that.

And he knows that if Harry loved him back, he’d stay, despite everything, if he could live the life with Harry that he so desperately wants. But there’s no way Harry is in love with Louis. Harry sees him as a friend; a childhood friend, at that, something innocent, pure and untainted. He would never consider Louis as a romantic partner, and even if he did, there’s no way Louis would be deemed worthy. Harry’s a fucking prince, and Louis still craves nicotine sometimes and hasn’t gotten his swearing under control.

And he’s responsible for his sisters, and more than that, he can’t be responsible for another loss in their lives. He can’t put them through more grief for his own selfish reasons - just so he can be close to Harry. He’d be worse than his father, if he did that.

Louis has to be better than that. He has to put his sisters above himself. He has to be a hero, like Alice, has to be worthy of being her descendent.

He just wishes he didn’t have to lose Harry in the process.

There’s a sound behind him, like metal scraping against brick, and Louis turns around. He’s expecting to see Harry, and there’s an apology on the tip of his tongue. But it’s not Harry. It’s an unfamiliar blonde girl, around his age, and she’s watching him, her eyes sharp and her smile venomous. She steps closer, and everything goes black.

♠♥♦♣


	2. Harry

It's Beginning To Get To Me.

 _I tried to tell you before I left_  
_but I was screaming under my breath_  
_you are the only thing that makes sense  
just ignore all this present tense_

 

Harry’s known he likes boys since he was six years old and a blue-eyed pixie boy showed up at a tea party. He remembers, quite clearly, telling his mum he’d marry Louis one day. Marriage wasn’t exactly a thing in Wonderland, not like it was in The Other World; people fell in love and committed to each other but it wasn’t quite the same cultural ritual. When he was young, though, Gemma told him about Marriage, that it was what grown-ups who love each other do. And when Harry was six, he knew he’d spend his life committed to Louis.

More or less, he was right. He’s spent sixteen years pining over someone who nobody thought would come back. His mum was the only one who gave him any hope, and even then, Harry always knew Louis wouldn’t properly be his. But Louis’s the reason Harry knows he likes boys, and nobody’s held a candle to him since.

And now Harry doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. He’s never fought with Louis before. It wasn’t even a real fight, he supposes, but he’s never been this upset with Louis or this worried that Louis is upset with him.

It’s just that it seemed like Louis was getting comfortable here, and then he mentioned his birthday and whatever Christmas is, and seeing his sisters, and Harry panicked. Of course Louis misses his sisters. They’re the main reason Harry suspects Louis will eventually go back home. And that’s why he’s extra sensitive when they’re brought up.

He just wants Louis to stay, and he knows that’s not going to happen. Eventually, Louis will leave, like he always does. And Harry will be well and truly heart-broken.

Harry flops back onto his bed and sighs. This is why he tried, he tried so hard when Louis came back, to keep his feelings in check. But it’s impossible, when Louis is so beautiful and more magical than everything in Wonderland combined. Harry can’t help being drawn to him. Could never resist it.

He wonders where Louis stormed off to. This is the longest they’ve been apart since Louis arrived. He can’t help being concerned, even if he wants to give Louis space.

Harry sighs again and then calls for Rupert, and watches his window until his flamingo flies in.

“Hi, baby,” Harry says, running a hand over Rupert’s beak. Rupert nuzzles into him like he knows Harry’s upset. Of course he does, he’s a very intuitive bird. “Can you find Louis for me? Don’t bother him, just let me know where he is?”

Rupert squawks, nuzzles Harry once more, then takes off.

It’s a complicated situation, and Harry’s a mess over it. Sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he could just be honest with Louis about his feelings, and then Louis could make an informed decision about whether to stay. But he’s too scared. What they have is so pure and perfect, and Harry is so worried that if he tells Louis how he feels, he’ll lose him for good. Not knowing where he stands, but still having Louis’s friendship, is better than not having Louis at all.

Of course, at some point, Louis’s going to go back home, and Harry will lose him anyway.

He wishes he could know how Louis feels without having to confess himself. It’s just hitting Harry that he knows so much about Louis, but he doesn’t know how Louis feels about Wonderland or about him. Harry’s been afraid to ask, so he hasn’t, but it feels… weird. To know so much about someone, but not know whether they want to stay with him.

It’s too hard to ask, so he lashed out instead.

Harry rolls over, burying his face in his pillow, and by the time he falls asleep, Rupert still hasn’t come back. 

♠♥♦♣

_‘I’m worried about Rupert,’ Harry told Louis. He’d been thinking about this a lot lately, waiting for Louis to appear back in Wonderland and reassure him. Nobody reassured him like Louis did, nobody made him feel as safe and supported, maybe not even his mum._

_Louis immediately looked concerned. ‘Why? Is he okay?’_

_‘I don’t know,’ Harry said with a sad frown. ‘Everyday I feed him a handful of these special pink flowers. It’s very sad, you know, as I love flowers. I don’t like them being eaten. But they’re all Rupert can eat, and they have to be pink, and a special kind of flower. So I make sure they don’t have personality, so they don’t know they’re being eaten.’_

_Louis nodded seriously. Nobody listened to Harry or cared about what he has to say as much as Louis did._

_‘Yesterday, I gave Rupert his flowers, but he didn’t eat them,’ Harry said. ‘And the same thing happened this morning. I’m really worried, what if he’s sick - ’_

_And then - poof - in the middle of Harry’s sentence, Louis disappeared._

_Harry gaped at the space where Louis had been sitting. He’d seen Louis disappear before, dozens of times, but never when Harry was in the middle of a story. He should be used to it, but he was already upset about Rupert, and this just felt like too much._

_‘Louis?’ Harry said quietly, like if he called for him Louis might come back. Harry knew he wouldn’t. He’d tried it so many times._

_Louis didn’t come back. Harry tried to breathe, tried not to cry. He couldn’t help feeling slightly offended that Louis left in the middle of his story, as well as abandoned. He knew Louis couldn’t help it, really, but sometimes he wondered._

_He found his mum and crawled into her lap, disturbing her needlepoint._

_‘What’s wrong, my turtle dove?’ his mummy asked, stroking his hair._

_Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat. ‘Louis disappeared, right while I was telling him about Rupert,’ he said, and then he was crying, he couldn’t help it._

_He cried a lot, he knew he did, and Gemma often called him a big baby, but he couldn’t control it. He had so many feelings, and sometimes they just overflowed and leaked out of him._

_He remembered how Louis told him once that it was a good thing, and he cried harder._

_‘Oh, my baby,’ his mum said. ‘You know he didn’t do it on purpose.’_

_‘I know,’ Harry sniffled. ‘I just hate it. He leaves me behind.’_

_‘He doesn’t mean to, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to,’ his mum said. ‘Louis loves you, baby. I’m sure he’d love to stay with you, but he’s too young to make that choice.’_

_Harry sniffed and rubbed his face against his mum’s dress. ‘Tell me he’ll come back,’ he whispered. Louis always came back, but sometimes Harry just needed to hear someone else say it._

_‘He’ll come back,’ his mum said firmly. ‘And I’m sure he’ll be very concerned about Rupert. Did he not eat again today?’_

_‘Mhm,’ Harry hummed miserably. ‘What if I lose him too?’_

_‘You won’t, darling,’ she said firmly. ‘You won’t lose either of them. Come on, let’s take Rupert to see the Dodo, he’s the smartest bird I know.’_

_Turns out Rupert_ was _sick. The Dodo figured out that he must have accidentally eaten something magical, and whatever it was burned his mouth up. He was in a lot of pain, and Harry felt horrible that they hadn’t figured it out sooner. The Dodo gave Rupert medicine that healed his mouth, but then Rupert croaked, and the Dodo frowned. He said that Rupert’s still-developing vocal chords might be permanently damaged; he may only ever speak in squawks and croaks._

_Harry spent the rest of that day tending to Rupert, hugging him often and trying to make up for him being hurt. But he also thought about Louis, about how hurt he felt every time Louis left him. It wasn’t fair, that Louis had a life away from Harry, that Harry couldn’t reach him._

_Louis showed up again the next day, popping into existence beside Harry with a gasp. He grabbed Harry’s shoulders and said, ‘Harry, is Rupert alright? I’ve been worrying all yesterday and today!’_

_Harry smiled and his heart settled. Louis did care. Harry decided that he should never doubt that ever again._

♠♥♦♣

In the light of the early morning, Harry comes to a decision. He can’t expect Louis to tell him how he feels without knowing how Harry feels, and he can’t expect Louis to stay without properly knowing what he’s staying for. As soon as he sees Louis again, Harry is going to tell him he’s in love with him.

That’s when Rupert sails in through his window and flops onto Harry’s bed, clearly exhausted.

“Wonderful timing, baby,” Harry says, scratching the top of his head. “Are you alright? Did you get any sleep?”

Rupert squawks mournfully, and Harry frowns.

“You should’ve rested,” he says. “You needn’t’ve flown all night.”

Rupert squawks again. He looks positively despondent.

“Did you… not find Louis?” Harry asks, and Rupert squawks softly. “And you looked everywhere?” Another soft squawk.

Harry’s heart sinks. If Rupert couldn’t find Louis, there’s only one logical conclusion.

Louis’s gone back home.

If You Leave.

 _I touch you once, I touch you twice_  
_I won't let go at any price_  
_I need you now like I needed you then  
you always said we'd meet again someday_

 

Harry panics. His heart sinks, and he feels overwhelmingly, mind-numbingly sad, and then he panics. He has to find his mum.

He pops into every room in the palace and eventually finds her in the drawing room with her needlepoint. “Mum,” he gasps, and she stands up, concerned.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she asks, floating over to him with her arms held out.

Harry collapses into them like a child. Like he did, as a child, every time Louis disappeared.

His mum holds him tight and runs a hand through his hair. “What is it, blossom?”

“Louis’s gone,” Harry says. “Rupert looked for him all night and he can’t find him. He’s gone home.” He lifts his head from his mum’s shoulder and looks at her, his cheeks wet with tears. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

“Oh, Harry,” his mum says, heartbreak in her face and pain in her voice. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming.”

It feels incredibly strange to hear his mum say that she’s blindsided by something, but Harry doesn’t have the space in his brain to dwell on it now. “I did,” he says, as his mum wipes his face. “I knew he’d leave, someday. I just… knowing doesn’t _help_.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” his mum says. “It would always hurt, no matter how prepared you are.”

“Yeah,” Harry says with a sniffle. Her saying that reminds him that she lost the love of her life in an even more permanent way. She hadn't trusted her intuition, because people didn't simply die in Wonderland, but Robin did. He doesn't think his mum will ever forgive herself. And it wasn't even that long ago. Harry suddenly feels guilty, like his problems aren't as loud, and his voice breaks as he says, "Mum. I'm sorry - is this - am I, is it an over-reaction? After everything last year - "

"No," she says firmly. "No, my darling. This isn't - you're free to feel however you feel. Nothing you could feel is an overreaction, because it's _your_ reaction. I'm just sorry I didn't see it coming."

"I was wondering about that," Harry says with a frown. He doesn’t want to ask, he’s afraid of the answer, but he has to know for certain. “I just, I wanted to know for sure. Can you, can you sense him?”

His mum frowns. “Let me try,” she says, stepping away from him and closing her eyes. She spreads her arms out, and slowly her temples glow white. The light is fainter than it usually is – usually it’s emitted from her whole body. Harry’s used to his mum basically turning into a star when she focuses her magic.

It takes a few minutes, and then she deflates. The glow fades and she slides into a chair. She looks exhausted.

Harry’s by her side in an instant. “Are you alright?”

She looks at him, and he’s shocked for a second, because he’s never seen his mum look so old. “That really took it out of me,” she says, clearly aiming for a light tone and falling just short.

Harry sits beside her, his concern for Louis actually pushed behind his concern for her. “Is there something properly wrong with your magic?” he asks. “You don’t normally react like that.”

His mum takes a few deep breaths, like she’s trying to remember to breathe. “I don’t know,” she says. “Short answer, yes. Something’s wrong. But I don’t know what it is, and I – I just can’t See as much as usual. It’s like there’s all this fog…” she trails off with a frown, and then focuses on him when he takes her hand. “I’m sorry, blossom, but I… I couldn’t see Louis. That doesn’t mean he’s not still here, but…”

Harry’s heart feels heavy. “Yeah,” he says. “It doesn’t look good, does it?”

His mum sighs and wraps an arm around him, and he burrows into her side, drawing as much comfort from her as physically possible.

♠♥♦♣

Harry spends most of the day in his garden. He’s feeling so fragile and soft; his flowers are the only ones he trusts to understand him right now.

He lies in the most populated patch, surrounded by roses and hydrangeas, daffodils and tulips, sunflowers and violets. It’s comforting; he’s known flowers for most of his life, he _gave_ most of these particular flowers life. They’re so familiar and safe.

“It will be alright, Harry,” the oldest rose says, trailing one of her leaves across his face. “Seasons change, and so do we.”

Harry’s heard her say that many times. It’s usually comforting, essentially it means ‘this too shall pass’. This time, though… this is a bit too much. Harry isn’t even sure he _wants_ it to pass. That would mean moving on.

“It might still work out,” a hydrangea says softly.

“And even if it doesn’t,” says the oldest violet. “We have seen you through a lot, my child. You are stronger than you know.”

Harry lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to let go of him.”

“We know you,” says a tulip. “You are.”

Harry sighs, and he closes his eyes and sends out his magic, pulling their roots closer until the flowers envelop him, cover him like a blanket. He lets their memories merge with his own.

_In Harry’s earliest memory, he’s a toddler in a field. He has a mouthful of mushy grass, the taste sharp and green, as he wanted to see what it tasted like. And there was a pretty daisy in front of him._

_‘Hello Daisy!’ he said, giving it his best smile. That’s what his Mummy told him to do when he met new people._

_But the daisy just sat there, warm in the sun. Harry poked it with a little chubby finger, and it swayed._

_‘Are you awake Daisy!’ he yelled. He wanted to talk with it, to ask if it liked the field, and see if it wanted to be his friend. ‘Daisy!’ he cried, saddened at its lack of response._

_From a distance, he heard hushed whispering. He pushed himself up onto two unsteady feet and toddled towards the sound. There must be new friends out there, and Daisy was being mean anyway. When he found the source of the voices, he let out a loud cheer, interrupting their conversation. The two flowers turned to look at him, and they didn’t look like Daisy. One was pink and the other was yellow, and they had different petals, but they also had faces. Big eyes and wide mouths, not like that Daisy. She hadn’t had eyes._

_‘Hello flowers!’ said Harry. These flowers didn’t exactly seem happy to see him, but he smiled at them anyway. Maybe they would like his smile._

_The pink one smiled back. Harry loved pink, it was his best colour. ‘Hello little one,’ it said. ‘Are you lost?’_

_Harry shook his head, his little curls whipping around his face. ‘No! I’m making friends!’ he cried cheerfully, then frowned. ‘But Daisy doesn’t like me.’ He pointed sadly at the lone daisy in the field behind him._

_The flowers exchanged a glance. ‘Well, dear,’ said the yellow one. ‘I’m afraid that Daisy can’t talk. That’s why she seemed unfriendly.’_

_Harry felt his bottom lip stick out. ‘But why?’_

_The yellow one sighed. ‘It's not a magic flower, child, like my wife and I. We're very special.’_

_Harry nodded, trying his best to listen. Her voice sounded like the voice his mum used when she was trying to tell him important things._

_‘We're alive like you are,’ added the pink one._

_Harry puffed out his chest. ‘I'm an alive boy!’ he said proudly._

_The flowers laughed at him, but in a nice way. ‘Yes, you are. And Daisy is alive in a different way. Daisy spends her time drinking water and eating the sun, but we spend our time,’ the pink flower paused, then continued in a musical voice, ‘singing!’_

_Harry clapped. He spent the rest of the afternoon learning flower songs, and his mummy was very impressed when he got home. After she told him off for sneaking away to make friends again, that is._

♠♥♦♣

That night, Harry sits in Louis’s room, trying to soak up as much of his leftover energy as he can. Trying to drown in it.

He’s been there for a while when he notices the phone on Louis’s bedside table, and he feels a spark of relief for the first time since Louis left. _Louis’s phone is still here_. Harry hadn’t even thought of that possibility, but there it is, filled to the brim with memories of his time with Louis.

Harry grabs the phone and unlocks it, checking the battery - a habit he picked up from Louis. 53%. Harry sighs in relief, and opens the Music. He finds his Louis playlist, which he’d made as soon as Louis taught him how to create playlists. He’d named it _Sweet Creature_ , feeling like that was obscure enough that Louis probably wouldn’t realise it was about him.

(Maybe Harry sort of hoped he would notice.)

He presses play, and a song by OMD shuffles on - Louis said that this song was very eighties, whatever that meant, and that he loved it because his mum had loved it - and it’s a song about loss. About the possibility of someone leaving. It hits so close to home - it had the first time Harry had heard it, but it’s so much worse now. Harry leaves it on. He’s a glutton for punishment.

He exits the Music and opens the Photos, just to hurt himself further. And yeah, Louis’s smiling face digs into his chest, breaks him open, but as he scrolls through the folder of photos, he realises something.

Harry’s never really looked at their photos. He likes to take them, and he knew they were building a little collection, but he hadn’t needed to look at them when he had Louis there, in real life. Besides, it wasn’t his phone to peruse all willy-nilly, and they were trying to save the battery until Louis figured out his magic.

So he’s never noticed. But now, he’s scrolling through all the photos, and he can’t believe how many there are of him. So many where he isn’t even looking at the camera or doing anything interesting, totally unaware. Louis took so many photos of Harry, just _because_.

Harry stops breathing for a moment, stopped on a photo of himself smiling down at a cup of tea. Louis actually… Louis might…

It seems more possible than ever that Louis might actually feel something for him. Which… somehow makes it even more painful that he’s gone.

Are You Lightning?

 _are you lightning? ‘cause I'm waiting_  
_this is frightening, I'm not playing_  
_I see you in my sheets, I see you in my sleep_  
_the only thing I’m scared of is the secret that you keep_

 

The wind whips Harry’s hair around his face and shoulders. He’s standing out on his balcony, looking over Wonderland. The sky is a deeply saturated rainbow; it’s almost sunset. Harry’s wearing a black, floor-length satin gown, and he grips the railing in front of him tightly, lips pursed as he tries not to cry.

This is his routine now. Every night, he stands here, looks over Wonderland and pinpoints the spaces where he has memories with Louis, like dotting a map. Sometimes he has a glass of wine, he listens to sad songs on Louis’s phone, and then he cries himself to sleep.

He misses Louis. Gemma says he’s being dramatic, even for him, and his mum says Louis could still come back, but… Harry’s spent weeks waiting for Louis to leave. This was a foregone conclusion to him, this is how he thought this would end. And he was right.

He’s in mourning, and all he asks is that everyone appreciate that.

The sky lights up as sunset begins, a meteor shower filling the air and disintegrating into glitter. Harry tilts his head back, breathes in the clear air and lets meteor glitter nestle in his hair and the fabric of his gown. It makes him think of all the sunsets he used to spend, catching glitter in his clothes and trying to magic it to stay.

He’s always known that’s how his Royal Tailor, Mr Lambert, made his suits. He made it seem so easy: catch the glitter in the fabric, run your hand over it to lock it in. Except whenever Harry ran his hand over the fabric, all that happened was that his hand came away covered in glitter. He practiced for ages, and he managed to make it work once. His mum says that’s amazing, that people rarely cross over into different forms of magic, and he should be grateful for it, but part of him is still hopeful he’ll get fashion magic someday. As hopeful as he can manage to be, in his current state.

Sunsets will always remind him of that, but now they remind him of Louis too. Louis’s reaction to his first sunset is something Harry will never forget. Sparks filled the air, and Louis said that looking up was like standing in the middle of a fireworks display, whatever that was. He was transfixed, and Harry was mesmerised by him. Like most of Louis’s reactions to Wonderland, his flabbergasted awe filled Harry with warmth.

Maybe because he felt like if Louis was that amazed by Wonderland, maybe he would stay. If Harry wasn’t enough by himself, maybe Wonderland would be.

Clearly it wasn’t, Harry realises, and he all but collapses against the railing. Time to go inside, he thinks.

He doesn’t bother changing, just drops himself across his bed and rolls up in the sheets. He closes his eyes, not because he’s tired but because when they’re open he can see Louis.

Louis only slept in his bed once, and yet he’s all Harry can see. It meant a lot to have Louis in his bed that night, Harry tried his best not to let on, but he was beside himself in wishing that it could be his future. That one day, sleeping beside Louis would be a mundane activity, as routine as breathing. As it was, Harry’s heart was beating faster than it ever had, and his attention was zeroed in on where Louis’s arm was brushing against his. His tanned skin against Harry’s pale pink sheets. His eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks. He was a thunderbolt, zooming in on Harry’s heart. He possessed Harry’s mind, body and soul so entirely that Harry felt sure he’d be empty without him.

And now that he’s gone, his ghost has taken over Harry’s room, the palace, Wonderland itself. He’s everywhere, he’s left residue everywhere he’s ever touched, like when Harry was a child but seven hundred times worse. Harry is not only empty without him, he's a gaping wound.

Gemma says he’s being dramatic, but Harry doesn’t think he’s being dramatic enough. His soul has been literally ripped in half.

♠♥♦♣

The next morning, at breakfast, Gemma asks if anyone else had heard the wailing around the palace in the middle of the night.

Harry’s wearing a black veil, and he ducks his head, hoping if she doesn’t see his expression, maybe she won’t suspect him. Because he’d definitely been wandering about the palace around three am last night, and he may have let a few cries of anguish escape. He’s just releasing his grief, he doesn’t need Gemma’s judgement.

“No idea,” he says as he shovels bilberries into his mouth.

“That’s odd,” says his mum. “I’ll have to have someone investigate.”

Alright. Maybe Harry should tone it down a bit.

He’s in his garden again after breakfast when Liam finds him. He’s wallowing, as this is the scene of his last fight with Louis, and he’s not really in the mood for Liam’s well-meaning optimism.

But Liam surprises him. He says, “Zayn says the Hatter’s asking after you.”

Harry doesn’t respond, but he does wonder why.

“He knows Louis’s gone,” Liam says gently. “He’s worried about you. I mean, we all are, but the Hatter…”

Harry knows what he means. The Hatter’s special. He’s so sensitive and he loves Harry so much. If he thinks Harry’s in pain, he’ll be in pain himself.

As much as he wants to keep to himself, he knows he needs to go to a tea party.

♠♥♦♣

Harry teleports straight from his garden to the Hatter’s cottage, not wanting to run into anybody else. He bypasses the cottage, knowing nobody will be there, and follows the path down into the clearing where the table’s set for tea, like it always is. But it’s not as sunny here as it usually is; there’s a gloominess, the trees casting odd shadows across the table.

Nick and Marchie are talking to each other while the Hatter sits silently between them, at the head of the table. He looks morose. They all look up when Harry approaches and offer him very different smiles; Nick pleased, Hatter sad, and Marchie slightly demented.

“How are you, little flower?” the Hatter asks, shooing Marchie into moving along so that Harry can take his seat. “I’ve been ever so worried.”

Harry sighs. “Not good,” he says. “You needn’t worry, as there’s nothing you can do. But it’s just - it’s been hard.”

The Hatter nods, looking impossibly sad. “I was really hoping you’d have a happy ending,” he says.

“He still can,” says Nick. “You’re right, H, there’s nothing we can do. It’s gonna hurt until it doesn’t. You’ve just gotta move on.”

That’s just the thing, though. Harry doesn’t _want_ to.

“I don’t under _stand_ ,” says Marchie, his accent posh and pointy. “What’s the _issue_?”

“We’ve discussed this,” says the Hatter impatiently. “Our dear Louis has disappeared. _Vanished_. Gone back home, likely.”

“Unsurprisingly,” Nick adds. “I knew he wouldn’t stick around.” There’s a hint of smugness in the way he says it, and Harry bristles. Nick is one of Harry’s best friends, but sometimes he gets like this, snide and jealous about the people Harry loves.

“But I still don’t under _stand_ ,” says Marchie.

“Ignore them, little flower,” the Hatter says. “Louis is a wonderful boy. You’re right to feel sad.”

“Thank you,” Harry says quietly.

“I was making this for him,” the Hatter says. He waves his hand through the air and a half-finished hat appears. It’s large, with an extremely wide brim and even bigger plume of feathers on top. Harry eyes widen.

He can’t even imagine Louis in this hat. It’s bigger than he is.

“Um,” Harry says. “It’s beautiful.” Because that’s not a lie.

“Thank you,” says the Hatter, pleased. “It would suit him perfectly, wouldn’t it?” His smile drops and he looks morose once more.

“I’m bored of this,” announces Marchie. “Let’s discuss something else. Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

He's such a shit and he has a complete lack of social awareness, but Harry has always been amused by the way he talks. He enunciates every single letter with great dramatic flair.

“I haven’t the foggiest,” says the Hatter sadly.

“I wasn’t asking _you_ ,” says Marchie.

“Why not?” asks the Hatter, once again impossibly sadder. “Aren’t I good enough?”

Marchie sighs. “We’ve discussed it before,” he says. “I already know you don’t know the answer. I’m asking Harry.”

Everyone at the table looks at him expectantly, seeming to forget that he’s been asked this question many times throughout his life.

“Because they can both produce notes,” says Harry, his standard answer.

“ _Wrong!_ ” Marchie screeches. “It is because the higher you go the fewer there are!”

“But you could say that about anything,” Nick argues. “You could say a teapot is like a writing desk, in that case.”

“You could say,” says Marchie, his eyes narrowed. “That a man with hair as high as yours should be locked up.”

“That’s very rude,” says Nick. “I’ve told you before, don’t make personal remarks.”

“I am quite certain you’re wrong,” says Marchie. “Personal remarks are not rude.”

They continue to bicker, and Harry tunes them out. He looks at the Hatter, who’s caressing his half-finished hat sadly.

“Louis would have loved it,” Harry tells him, because he thinks that’s probably true. Louis would have been thrilled that the Hatter made him something.

The Hatter gives him a sad but kind smile. “Thank you, dearest flower,” he says, patting Harry’s hand. “You know I’m here for you, don’t you? If you need to talk.”

Harry smiles back at him, his heart feeling a tiny bit lighter. “I do know,” he says. “Thank you.”

♠♥♦♣

Seeing the Hatter was a good idea, Harry thinks. He feels slightly less lonely in his misery, but it hasn’t exactly cheered him up. That night, as he listens to his Louis playlist on his balcony, he wonders if anything would ever cheer him up again.

 

Viva La Vida.

 _one minute I held the key_  
_next the walls were closed on me_  
_and I discovered that my castles stand  
upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand_

 

Harry wakes to a scroll of paper slapping him across the face. He bats it away and groggily sits up, and the scroll zooms into his chest. Harry frowns as he grabs it and opens it. It’s obviously from his mum, and she’s being far too insistent for this time of day.

**H, DARLING, URGENT NEWS ABOUT LOUIS – COME TO COUNCIL ROOM ASAP – THE WHITE QUEEN**

It’s signed with his mum’s official signature, and it usually makes him laugh when she has to abide by that formality. Right now, in his anxiety, he just feels faint amusement. He jumps out of bed, looks down at yesterday’s gown and decides, due to the haste, that it will be good enough for this meeting too. He concentrates and zaps himself into the Council Room, which is the room where his mum and her small parliament discuss strategy.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” his mum says, sounding relieved. She, Gemma, The Royal Advisor Jeffrey, and The Royal Correspondent Dan are gathered around a glowing silver orb.

“Mr Wootton has been spying on The Red Queen for a while now, and he’s just brought back information,” Jeffrey tells Harry. “Take a look.”

They make room for Harry around the silver orb, which Harry recognises as a cheap version of a Golden Picture, a golden ball that shows a moving picture. Like what Louis’s phone can do, except much more primitive. The picture only moves for a few seconds, and the quality is never clear. Much less so with the silver version.

But bad quality aside, Harry can still tell that’s Louis in the orb. Louis, chatting with a blonde girl, who – looks up as she laughs, and – it’s Taylor. It’s The Red Queen.

Harry gapes up at his mum and the Councilmembers. His mum looks sympathetic, Gemma and Jeffrey look concerned, and Dan looks… like he’s holding back a smile. He’s always been a bastard.

“When was this taken?” Harry asks, his voice shaky beyond his control.

“Last night,” Dan says, looking like the cat who got the cream.

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Jeffrey says. “It seems as though Louis has forsaken us for The Red Queen.”

“We’re about to call a meeting to discuss our best course of action,” his mum says kindly. “You can join if you like.”

She dismisses Dan and Jeffrey, and they busy themselves getting ready for the meeting. Gemma steps closer and slings an arm around Harry’s neck.

“C’mon, little brother, you have to be involved in this, no matter how much it hurts,” she says. “When I’m Queen, you’ll be Second in Command. You’ll take my place at all these meetings. You need to know how to strategise.”

Harry sighs. She’s right. He just doesn’t see why he has to start learning _now_.

Maybe it’s _because_ it hurts. Maybe they think fighting through the pain will make him a better leader. Well, joke’s on them, because he’s not even hurting properly yet. He’s numb.

How could Louis possibly have turned on them? What could Taylor have offered him that would make him leave Harry? Was it because of their silly fight? Harry didn’t even think that _was_ a fight. He can’t believe this. He prepared himself for Louis to leave; never in a million years did he think Louis would join his enemy. His family’s enemy.

Harry, quite simply, just can’t understand. He wouldn’t be able to believe it if he hadn’t seen it in black and silver.

He must have zoned out thinking about it, as the next thing he knows, Gemma’s steering him into a chair at the Council Table as the room fills up. As Gemma takes her place beside their mum at the head of the table, someone sits next to Harry and rubs his arm. It’s Liam, who of course has to be here as First Knight, and who looks very sorry for him.

The meeting’s rough. Harry is on the verge of running out the entire time. He hasn’t even begun to process this, and he’s surrounded by all of these important people who are calling Louis a traitor and demanding his imprisonment. It’s a lot.

♠♥♦♣

Harry’s still in shock when the meeting’s over. He went to the dining room for breakfast on auto-pilot, and now that he’s here he doesn’t know how he’ll eat. Luckily Niall’s the only person in the room. He’ll know what to say.

“Liam told me what’s been going on,” Niall says as he dishes out breakfast. Today it’s yellowfruit spread on top of pinkseed and fizzberry buns. It looks lovely. Too bad Harry won’t be eating it. “I think it’s bullshit.”

Harry starts. “What? Why?”

“C’mon, Harry, why would Louis want to leave you for Taylor? He loves _you_ ,” Niall insists, and Harry’s stomach turns. He wishes he could believe that, but he just can’t. Louis isn’t here, after all.

“If he loves me, where is he?” Harry asks.

Niall bites his lip. “That’s the part I haven’t figured out,” he admits. “But seriously, he loves you, he loves your family, he loves everyone in this castle. I can promise you that. I’d stake me life on it, he’d never betray us.”

Harry sighs. “Look, it doesn’t make sense to me either,” he says. “I just can’t find any other explanation.”

“I will,” Niall says fiercely. “Leave it with me.”

♠♥♦♣

Harry spends the day in and out of meetings about What To Do and Taking Urgent Action, and then he spends the night in his bedroom, stewing. Tomorrow a plan will be chosen and immediately put into action, and the outcome won’t be good for Louis. It feels wrong, but Harry can’t work it out.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” Harry whispers to Rupert, who’s perched in his lap, his long neck curled around Harry’s in a sort of hug. “How could he?”

Rupert squawks forlornly, because he doesn’t know himself.

Unlike most animals in Wonderland, Rupert can’t speak. He’s Harry’s baby, so of course Harry learned to communicate with him, first through touch, then through speaking; while Rupert can’t talk himself, he can understand Harry. Eventually Harry learned to interpret Rupert’s squawks - essentially he can understand Bird.

But one time, a Lord came to visit the palace from some far off corner of Wonderland. He brought his young daughter with him - she was about ten, seven years younger than Harry at the time. And she was Deaf. Harry ended up spending a lot of time with her, and she taught Harry Other World Sign Language.

After she left, Harry thought about Rupert. The trouble was that Sign Language used hands, and Harry was the one who had them. And Rupert could understand _him_. They needed to develop their own version of Sign Language.

So they did. Harry made suggestions and Rupert either attempted them or squawked his disagreement, until eventually they had their own system.

The first time Louis saw it - Harry asked Rupert a question, Rupert swivelled his head around, Harry knew what he meant - he almost fell over, he was so startled. Then he was fascinated, and he made Harry and Rupert teach him what all the signs meant.

Harry sighs. And now he’s apparently betrayed them? The beautiful boy who spent hours learning silly signs just so he could understand what Harry’s flamingo was saying? Harry’s heart aches, but his brain just can’t believe it.

“I don’t understand it,” Harry sighs. “Was I just completely wrong about him?”

Rupert shakes his head and flutters his wing three times. It means, ‘something is not right.’

Northern Downpour.

 _through playful lips made of yarn_  
_that fragile Capricorn_  
_unraveled words like moths upon old scarves_  
_I know the world's a broken bone_  
_but melt your headaches, call it home_

 

He’s up all night, thinking about it. Louis’s phone died again the night before, so Harry’s been twirling it in his fingers and humming bits of whatever songs he remembers. He’s out on his balcony again, sitting this time and staring up at the moon. She’s particularly big and luminous tonight, looking so close that Harry feels he could lean out from his balcony and graze her with his fingertips.

Her presence reminds Harry of Louis, of how he sees his mum in the moon. Harry wonders if that’s why she looks so large tonight. If she’s trying to tell him something.

Harry looks out over Wonderland, so lit up by the moon it almost looks like daytime, and he decides to try to channel some of his mum’s magic. He casts his mind out as far as he can reach, as far across Wonderland as he’s ever been, and thinks one question repeatedly into the universe: _Louis, where are you?_

As soon as his concentration falters, the phone in his hands dings and comes to life. Harry watches, dumbstruck, as the little device powers on. He’s never done that. In fact, it reminds him of what Louis said he did, that one time with Zayn. He said his magic could power his phone. Harry wonders if he did that himself, or if Louis helped.

As he’s wondering, the music app opens and plays a John Mayer song called Taylor. Harry wasn’t listening to this song before the phone died, didn’t even know it existed, so that seems pointed. It feels like Louis is telling him he’s with Taylor.

“But I know you’re with Taylor,” Harry says, his heart sinking. “I want to know _why_.”

The song switches to Help! by the Beatles, one of the few Beatles songs Louis has on his phone. Harry bites his lip and stares at the phone. Is Louis really trying to communicate with him, or is this just Harry’s wishful thinking?

The song is pitiful, pleading for help, and the singer is clearly upset and desperate. Harry’s heart is hammering hard and he’s hoping so painfully.

“Is this really you?” he whispers to the phone. “Do you need help?”

Northern Downpour by Panic! At The Disco starts up, and Harry’s breath catches. This song has been on the Sad playlist he made after Louis disappeared, he’s listened to it a lot lately, and he associates it heavily with Louis. To be fair, he associates most music with Louis, because he wouldn’t have heard it without Louis and because so much music fits Harry’s thoughts about Louis, no matter what mood he’s in.

But the first time Harry heard this song, he said it was beautiful. The most beautiful song he’d ever heard at that point. It’s a lot like Louis in that sense.

Every note plucks at Harry’s heart, and he hugs the phone to his chest and tries not to cry. _My one and lonely_ , the song says, and Harry tries to breathe. How does it feel so accurate?

He looks at the moon and wishes she could answer his questions.

 _I missed your skin when you were east, you clicked your heels and wished for me_ , the song sings. And then it does something odd – it repeats itself. _I missed your skin when you were east you clicked your heels and wished for me. Imissedyourskinwhenyouwereeastyouclickedyourheelsandwishedforme._ Faster and faster until it squeals into silence. And then the song picks up again, like nothing happened.

Harry interprets it as Louis underlining that line, and Harry – Harry can’t not have hope. Harry knows his castle is east of Taylor’s, and he knows Louis knows that – once he called her The Wicked Witch of the West, which wasn’t a reference Harry understood.

He’s not completely sure what’s going on, but he has hope. Maybe Louis’s communicating with him somehow. Maybe he hasn’t betrayed them.

The phone skips through apps until it lands on the photo album and opens a photo of Louis and Harry. It then opens the editing app and draws a shaky red heart around Harry’s face, and scrawls the word HELP! across Louis’s. Harry almost drops the phone.

His mind races with what to do, looking through the apps himself before he remembers the Notes app that Louis showed him. He’s terrible at using the typing function on this little box, but he does his best as fast as possible.

**Lou is that you**

A response appears on the screen immediately.

**Yes. Harry?**

Harry gasps. He can’t believe Louis has managed to channel his magic into his phone, especially this early into being in Wonderland, and from so far away.

**yes its me are you ok**

**Not really. Taylor has me captured. I’m in her dungeon.**

Yellow Flicker Beat.

 _and now people talk to me, I’m slipping out of reach now_  
_people talk to me, and all their faces blur_  
_but I got my fingers laced together and I made a little prison_  
_and I’m locking up everyone who ever laid a finger on me_

 

The sun came up while Harry was preoccupied with the phone, which means his mother should be awake. Harry checks the time to be sure, and yes, the Council will be meeting in thirty minutes. He gets dressed in his best Don’t Fuck With Me outfit, a suit that looks like hard, cut marble, with little gold spikes over the shoulders. His boots are huge and covered in gold spikes, and he’s wearing his Wartime Tiara, which is equal parts tiara, head armour, and weapon.

He’s got time, so he walks to the Council Room instead of teleporting. He walks slowly but with purpose, and he can feel everyone staring at him, presumably for his outfit, for the fact that he’s walking, and for the look on his face.

He’s furious. Harry has never been so angry in his life. He didn’t even know it was possible to be this angry. He’s never wanted to hurt anyone ever before, and yet now, he could easily set fire to Taylor’s castle and burn everyone inside to ashes. Once he’s gotten Louis out, of course.

The Council meeting has only just begun once Harry gets there, which is perfect; when he flings open the door, all eyes are on him. He storms up to the table and looks at the sea of shocked faces looking back at him. And then they all blur, as Dan Wootton comes into focus.

“Arrest him,” he says, and Liam jumps into action. Bless his training and his ability to act first, ask questions later, because he gets a Locking Cuff on Dan just as it clearly dawns on him to teleport away. Luckily the weasel’s only been here a few years, so it’s not second nature yet. Those few seconds were all Harry needed.

“Harry, what’s going on?” his mum asks.

“Louis has been captured by Taylor,” Harry says, refusing to call Taylor a queen. She’s no queen. “And Dan is working for her. He’s a liar and a spy and I want him locked up, if not executed.”

“Harry!” his mum gasps, but that’s the least of his demands. Harry’s about to really shock her with the carnage he has in mind when Gemma jumps in.

“Not that I doubt you, but how could you know this?” she asks.

Harry holds up the phone. “Louis’s mobile phone turned on this morning, after the battery was dead. Louis has been able to do that before, so I thought it was him, and then he played a series of songs which confirmed it. And then we spoke using a function called Notes.” He opens the page and shows the table. “As you can see, Louis has told me himself that he was captured.”

“That’s nonsense,” splutters Dan. “Who are you going to trust – malfunctioning Other World technology at best, a traitorous spy at worst, or _me_? I’ve been here, by your side, for so many years, my Queen – ”

“I believe Prince Harry,” Liam interrupts. “I know Louis, and I wasn’t sold on this whole thing to begin with. And besides, I’ve sent out for spies of my own. I’ve heard whispers about you, Wootton, and I was going to bring it to the Council’s attention today.”

“A truth potion,” Harry’s mum says. “That’s what we need.” She writes on a scroll and flicks her wrist, sending it flying out the door. A few moments later, Niall appears, out of breath and holding a potion.

“Your Majesty,” Niall says, holding the potion out.

“Thank you,” Anne says as she waves for Liam to get it. “Now, we shall see.”

Liam forces Dan to drink it, and within seconds, the whole story comes bubbling out of his mouth.

Harry turns on his heel. He doesn’t need to hear anymore. He teleports to the Weaponry Room, and begins collecting what he’ll need. His best sword, definitely. He’s never been so grateful to his mum for forcing him to learn to duel. And some vines, which are Harry’s favourite weapon; he can manipulate them to do many things, but there’s nothing better for binding people. He grabs his bow and arrow, which, being made out of ash wood, have always been easy for him to master. He’s got a few chilli bombs, which are an eye-watering natural explosive, and he’s got an Everlasting Flame, which will burn down Taylor’s castle if Harry unleashes it.

When Harry met Taylor, he never dreamed he’d be the one to kill her.

He was seventeen, only a few weeks off eighteen, when Taylor came to their palace. Apparently she’d been in Wonderland for a while, at least a year, living far away from them. She’d come with her girlfriend, but Dianna left her, decided to go back home, and Taylor was heart-broken and wanted to know if she could stay with them. She was a distant relation, after all.

At least, that was her story. She attached herself to Harry early, and Harry, thinking she was heart-broken, tried everything he could think of to cheer her up. It worked too well, because soon she was going to his mum and telling her that Harry had proposed. Harry had done no such thing – he was only seventeen, and she was too old for him, and also, he wasn’t at all interested in girls. Plus they were distantly related! He said as much to his mother, in front of Taylor, which was his mistake. She transformed from a sweet angel to a red-eyed snake, literally, and she tried to bite Harry’s mum in an unsubtle attempt to take the throne. She was caught, and banished, and Harry hasn’t seen her since.

And he used to be fine with that. She’d manipulated his family and tried to kill his mum, and Harry hadn’t wanted her dead, just out of the kingdom. Now, though, she’s gone too far.

“What are you doing?” Gemma asks, and Harry starts, almost dropping his knapsack.

“Getting ready,” Harry says, heaving his bag onto his shoulder.

“For what?” Gemma asks, sounding faintly exasperated. “Get back to the Council Room, we’re coming up with a new strategy.”

“Don’t need that,” Harry says. “I’ve got my own.”

“Oh really, and what’s that?” Gemma asks. “Rush in, cock out, shooting flowers at everyone, find Louis by the strength of your bond, teleport out? You know you’ll be dead before you get to him, don’t you?”

“I don’t think that’s the phrase,” Harry says. “‘Rush in, cock out’? Doesn’t seem right.”

“Of course it is,” Gemma says, waving a hand. “If you run in with your cock out it’ll distract everyone.”

Harry makes a face. “Well, that isn’t my plan – ”

“Well, it may as well be – ”

“Children!” his mum says. Harry didn’t even notice her arrive. “Harry, your sister is right. You’re not going there by yourself and without a proper plan.”

“But I can’t wait another moment,” Harry says. “It’s my fault he’s there.”

His mum looks pained. “No it isn’t, my darling, it’s my fault.”

“What?” Harry says, as that makes no sense. “Taylor wouldn’t have captured him if he wasn’t my – my friend. Surely. And besides, he was only alone because we had a fight. It’s my fault, and I should’ve figured it out sooner and rescued him by now.”

“No, I should’ve,” his mum says. “As Taylor’s gotten stronger, my powers have reduced – I’ve been struggling to See, which has clouded my judgement – ”

“And I forgot to tell Louis he looked pretty the day he disappeared, so obviously it’s my fault,” Gemma says in a silly falsetto. They both look at her. “That’s how ridiculous you both sound. And by the way, Taylor would’ve captured Louis anyway. Did either of you bother to find out the results of his Genetics Test?”

Harry frowns. He hadn’t. Louis hadn’t mentioned it, so Harry assumed it was standard.

Gemma looks at them meaningfully. “Louis is descended from Alice.”

Don't Stop Me Now.

 _I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky_  
_like a tiger defying the laws of gravity_  
_I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva_  
_I'm gonna go, go, go, there's no stopping me_

 

Harry agrees to allowing his mum to assemble a team for him, and to taking a few hours to come up with a plan. Then he’s off, with Liam, Gemma, and four of Liam’s best Knights – Perrie, Jade, Jesy, and Leigh Anne. Liam’s plan involves less fire than Harry is happy with, but his mum had insisted on minimal murder. Harry is trying to tamper down his rage so that he doesn’t accidentally kill someone.

They were able to teleport to the edge of the kingdom, but then they have to walk, as Dan had begrudgingly told them that Taylor can sense disturbances in the magic near her castle, and they’d rather be safe than sorry. Their plan needs an element of surprise.

It’s not a short walk, and it’s not helping Harry’s mood; now his rage is entwined with impatience. He ends up fiddling with Louis’s phone, which he brought just in case he could contact Louis with it. The battery is about half full, thanks to Louis’s magic, and Harry decides he could use some music to set the mood. He scrolls through the artists Louis has, and decides on Queen.

Queen is one of Harry’s favourite bands. When Louis first played them for him, Harry listened to them nonstop for two days. They’re more extravagant than anything else Harry’s ever heard; they’re flamboyant, show-stopping, they’re like Wonderland, the entire universe, and Harry’s soul all wrapped up and translated into music.

Harry puts on Don’t Stop Me Now, at a medium volume even though he wants to blast it. The beat picks up, becomes jaunty, and Harry bops along as he walks. Gemma and the Knights shoot him odd looks, but Liam seems to be into it.

Harry starts singing along, “ _I’m a rocket ship on my way to Mars, on a collision course, I’m a satellite, I’m out of control_ \- ”

“Honestly Harry, shut up,” Gemma says, but Harry can tell she’s just jealous she doesn’t know the words.

“ _\- I’m ‘bout to oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode!_ ” Harry cries, waving his hands around.

Jade giggles and Gemma throws a rock at him. “Shut up,” she says. “You’re so annoying.”

“I will not,” Harry sniffs. “This song is perfect for my mood.”

Because he’s committed to setting the tone, and because she _threw a bloody rock at him_ , Harry puts the song on repeat. He marches to the beat of it and sings along until they get close to the castle.

♠♥♦♣

Based on Dan’s Truthful descriptions, they have a floor plan of Taylor’s castle, with a rough idea of where Louis is. He’s usually in the dungeon, but sometimes Taylor has him out in her throne room. Likely to torment him. It makes Harry’s stomach turn.

The plan is to split up – a third of the group will look for Taylor, a third for Louis, and the last third will disarm the guards. Harry is with Perrie on Team Find Taylor, with Gemma, Jesy and Leigh Anne backing them up on Team Disarm. Liam and Jade have gone off in search of Louis.

Harry would like to be on Team Find Louis, but it’s possible Louis is with Taylor anyway, and Harry can’t ignore the fire in his belly telling him to attack. Much as he wants to find Louis, he wants to get vengeance just as badly.

He and Perrie are outside the Throne Room, levitating beside a window with the help of Jesy’s ability to manipulate the air. Taylor’s in there, just as Dan’s information said she would be, but there’s no Louis in sight. Just Taylor holding court over her minions.

Harry signals to Gemma, who presumably sends a message to Liam, and then Jesy levitates her up to join Harry and Perrie.

“I’m thinking chilli bomb the room, send in vines to tie everyone up,” Harry says. “Teleport in when the cloud of pepper settles and fight Taylor until she gives up Louis. Thoughts?”

“Jesy can put a bubble of fresh air around you,” Gemma says. “I think Jesy and I should watch from on high, and the rest of you go in and attack. If possible, you tie them up and we escort them back for Mum to deal with. But if she puts up a fight – we fight.”

Harry nods. Sounds good. Gemma floats down to tell the others the plan, while Harry gets everything he needs. Don’t Stop Me Now is stuck in his head and Harry hums it to himself.

_Don’t stop me, don’t stop me, don’t stop me, hey hey hey..._

♠♥♦♣

The chilli bomb is effective. Harry stands in the middle of Taylor’s throne room with almost everyone around him incapacitated. Jesy has constructed little pockets of air around the heads of all of their people, so Harry is fine, and he has enough time to send his vines out to tie everyone up.

“Where is Louis?” he demands, as the air begins to clear. Taylor’s staring at him with murderous red-rimmed eyes.

“How dare you,” she hisses. She’s not even struggling against the vines, and Harry’s quite sure he knows why. “How dare you barge in here, attack my people, and think you can make demands?”

Harry rolls his eyes. He’s still the prince here, he has more authority than she does; most of her power exists in her warped mind. “How dare _you_ imprison my best friend?” he says, trying to stay calm. “Who do you think you are?”

“I am The Red Queen,” Taylor says haughtily. She finally fights against the vines to hold herself up straight, and Harry flicks his wrist so the vines tighten around her, pushing her down. “And you and I both know he’s not just your _friend_.” She grins at him, lascivious and wolfish, like she’s actually in control here. Harry’s certain she thinks she is.

“You’re no queen,” Harry says, choosing to ignore the rest.

Taylor’s eyes are lethal, and the Knave of Hearts lets out an outraged cry from her left, where he’s tied up. He’s the only man in her court, seemingly, and Harry remembers him from before – his name is Ben, and when Harry was a teenager, Ben worked for his mother. He was always hungry for more power than she would give him, and it’s no wonder he deflected to Taylor. Harry’s pretty sure being the only man in a court of women makes him feel important, in a very gross way. He gets that vibe.

“She is royalty, same as you,” Ben says, hatred in his voice. “Wonderland always has, and always will have two queens. Her Majesty deserves your respect.”

“Quiet,” Taylor says, while Harry scoffs a laugh.

“Respect?” Harry says in disbelief. “What has she ever done to earn it? She’s entitled and power-mad, and she doesn’t care who she hurts. My mother, my family, we want what’s best for all of Wonderland. Taylor wants what’s best for herself.”

Ben opens his mouth to object, and Harry flicks his hand and stuffs a vine in it. He tries not to laugh as Ben almost chokes.

“Enough, Poison Ivy,” Taylor snaps. It’s not a reference Harry understands, but her voice is steel and her eyes are fire and ice. “You’re not getting your little boyfriend back, Harry. And you, and your sister, and all your pathetic friends? You won’t be leaving here alive.”

Then she transforms. The vines fall away as her body shrinks, and then Harry is standing opposite a bright red cobra. The cobra grows and grows, until her head is almost touching the ceiling. She stares Harry down, gnashing her fangs, venom and spit dripping.

Harry laughs. “Now, Jesy!” he yells, and feels his stomach swoop as he’s lifted up and flown out the window, into the courtyard. His plan requires a bit more room.

It takes Taylor a moment to adapt, to follow him, and that’s all he needs. He pops the cupcake Niall made for him into his mouth, and by the time Taylor’s outside, he’s bigger than her castle.

He has to act fast. Gemma’s on the balcony, and she can bind Taylor’s powers, but only for a few minutes. As soon as Taylor can change her size or teleport herself away, Harry’s plan will be useless.

“GO!” Gemma screams, and Harry reaches out one of his enormous hands and picks Taylor up by the neck, directly under her head.

She thrashes, trying to bite him, but she can’t reach properly. He closes his fingers tight, putting just enough pressure to hinder her breathing without actually crushing her windpipe. He thinks. He’s not completely educated on the biology of snakes, but he has a good idea of what he’s doing.

“We’re more powerful than you think we are,” Harry says, his voice booming around the courtyard. He can hear swords clanging back in the throne room, and he hopes everyone is holding their own. “You don’t have a chance against us.”

Taylor gasps, and Harry loosens his grip just a bit, just so she can talk. “Where’ssss my magic? What have you done?”

“Where’s Louis?” Harry demands.

“He’ssss fine,” Taylor chokes out. “For now. Let me go or you’ll be ssssorry. I’ll kill him.”

“You’re not in a position to be making threats,” says Harry, tightening his fingers again. “If it were up to me, I’d kill you right now.” He closes his fingers tighter, and watches the snake’s eyelids flutter. “Luckily for you, my mother is merciful.”

Taylor passes out, and Harry drops her. It’s not exactly a short fall, but Harry doesn’t care about her safety. The clanging sounds from the throne room abruptly stop, and Harry looks at Gemma on the balcony, who motions for him to hurry.

Harry takes a bottle out of his pocket and bends down, forcing some of it down Taylor’s throat. She shrinks to the size of a small garter snake. Harry takes a sip from it himself, shrinking back down to his normal height, and then he strides over to Taylor, who’s still passed out. He rummages around in his bag and finds the small stone-iron chest they’d brought. He picks up Taylor and puts her inside, then locks it. There’s a rudimentary spell on the chest, binding the magic of whatever’s inside. She’s trapped, for now.

He throws the chest back into his bag, and then steadies himself to find Louis. Or Liam. It should be easy from here – provided Taylor’s knights don’t put up much of a fight now that she’s captured.

“Harry!” Gemma yells. “He’s in the throne room! Jesy will bring you back up!”

As soon as she speaks, Harry only has a second to hold onto his bag before he’s whisked up into the air again. He zooms in through the window and lands among chaos.

Leigh Anne, Jesy, Perrie, and Gemma are powerful, but they’re fighting a room of Taylor’s knights. Their one advantage is that Taylor’s court is mostly made up of women who have always been Courtly Ladies, not trained knights. They have strength in numbers and that’s about it. Meanwhile, The Knave of Hearts is standing beside the throne, shouting orders, and behind him, shackled to a giant cast-iron heart, is Louis.

A Sky Full Of Stars.

 _‘cause you're a sky, ‘cause you're a sky full of stars_  
_I'm gonna give you my heart_  
_‘cause you're a sky, ‘cause you're a sky full of stars_  
_‘cause you light up the path_  
_I don't care, go on and tear me apart_  
_I don't care if you do_

 

All of the blood rushes to Harry’s head. Gemma conjured invisible force fields around the both of them before they arrived, and thank goodness she did, because Harry can’t think enough to protect himself right now. He can’t even see anything past Louis.

Louis looks exhausted. His hair is a mess, his face is dirty, and he’s shackled – there’s something so wrong about seeing Louis in chains. It’s unnatural. But he’s here, he’s looking at Harry like he can’t believe he’s real, and he’s beautiful. He’s a meteor shower, a supernova, an entire galaxy.

Harry’s heart is beating so hard he feels it could hammer right out of his chest. Louis is _right there_ , and logically Harry knows the battle isn’t quite over, but every fibre of his being is aching to run over, grab hold of Louis and never let him go. _He didn’t leave_. He didn’t betray them. And he’s looking at Harry with tears in his eyes like he’s feeling everything Harry’s feeling, and suddenly Harry doesn’t care if he isn’t. The risk is worth it. He can’t go another single day without Louis knowing that he’s Harry’s whole world.

But the battle has to come first.

Harry flicks his wrist, and the vines sitting abandoned on the ground spring to life and wrap Ben up again.

“For fuck’s sake!” Ben roars, and Harry just laughs at him. If he recalls correctly, Ben’s magic has always been virtually non-existent – he never worked at it, relied more on his brown-nosing and scheming to get ahead. He’ll pay for that now.

Harry raises his hand so that the flowers he has in his bag rise out. They’re pink tulips, small bulbs, non-sentient but imbibed with a different sort of magic. When Harry flicks his hand and sends them flying towards Ben, when they land on his face, he slowly freezes mid-sentence. He’s paralysed.

It’ll wear off eventually, but it’s good enough for now. Jade and Liam appear in the throne room just as Ben falls to the floor, and Jade, with her ability to transport matter, removes Louis’s shackles and places them on Ben.

Louis stands, rubbing at his wrists, and then he locks eyes with Harry. Harry’s body is moving regardless of his intentions, oblivious to everyone around him, and so is Louis’s. They pick up speed and meet in the middle, crashing into each other, and Harry feels like he can finally breathe again.

Time feels frozen. He and Louis are standing in the middle of a battle - a dying battle, but there’s still magic and swords in the air around them. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t exist, not when Louis is here, when Harry can hold him in his arms.

“Harry,” Louis breathes. “I’m so glad you figured it out.”

“I’m so glad you didn’t leave,” Harry mumbles into his shoulder, and then he lifts his head and takes Louis’s jaw in his hands. He needs Louis to hear him. “I never want to let you go.”

“I don’t want you to,” Louis says.

Harry nods, and there’s so much he could say, but at the same time, there’s nothing. Harry looks at Louis, at the intensity in his eyes, and he doesn’t care if Louis burns him up. Louis could destroy him, but Harry has to do this.

He leans even closer, his hands still cupping Louis’s face, and he kisses him, softly but surely. Louis gives a tiny gasp, his mouth slipping open against Harry’s, and Harry’s bottom lip slides in between Louis’s. There’s a split-second where Harry doesn’t know what will happen, the anticipation and thrill swirling in his stomach, because he’s _finally kissing Louis_ , and then Louis sucks on Harry’s lip properly and Harry explodes.

It’s like being swallowed by the sun. Every single one of Harry’s nerve endings is alive, and he slides his hands up so his fingers can curl into Louis’s hair. Harry has only had a few kisses in his life, because nobody compared to the feelings he had as a child, and now, he knows why. He was always waiting for this.

Louis is the only person he ever wants to kiss. He wants to live in this moment forever. He’s never felt more magical.

“Harry,” he can hear faintly, someone calling his name. It gets more insistent, and Harry sadly drags himself away from Louis’s mouth.

He opens his eyes. And Louis is the first thing he sees, of course, his eyes dark and his lips shiny. He’s staring at Harry with as much wonder as Harry feels, and it’s okay. Louis looks burst open, and if he’s feeling even half of what Harry is, then they’ll be okay.

Harry looks away, in search of whoever was calling him – probably Gemma – and then he realises. They’re standing in the middle of what could only be described as a flower explosion. It looks like it’s literally rained flowers in the throne room, and it’s clearly halted the fighting, as piles of pink and blue flowers separate almost everyone.

“Harry,” Gemma says. Harry can’t even see her amongst the mess. “I don’t know what you’ve done, but we should go.”

“Right,” Harry says. He looks back at Louis, feeling drunk, and then he looks at the room again. The ladies of Taylor’s court are struggling to escape from quicksand-like piles of flowers. “Attention, everyone. We have captured Taylor. This is over, all of it. She will answer to her crimes and so will everyone else that’s played a part.”

There’s grumblings from the room at large, but Louis squeezes his hand, and Harry teleports them home, leaving a blanket of flowers behind.

♠♥♦♣

There’s a lot of bureaucratic nonsense after that and not enough time to talk to Louis. Harry spends ages watching Louis while he testifies to Harry’s mum and the Council about what exactly happened with Taylor, and it’s a pretty fascinating story, but Harry’s too preoccupied staring at Louis, at his twinkling ocean eyes, at the sunkissed glow of his skin, even at the bags under his eyes. Mostly, though, he’s staring at Louis’s lips. He can’t believe he kissed that mouth. And Louis kissed him back. Finally, after sixteen years, _Louis kissed him back_.

It might not mean what Harry wants it to mean. He knows that. Maybe Louis just kissed him for the sake of it, or in the moment, or maybe he’s merely attracted to Harry, maybe he doesn’t want a relationship. That might be the worst nightmare scenario, because Harry’s already planning their wedding - flowers everywhere, of course, and a white lace suit with a swishiness in the legs, and Rupert will be his best man. Harry stares at Louis’s mouth and forgets rational thought, and spends the rest of the meeting fantasising about his and Louis’s children.

He’ll have to get Louis to retell his story later.

Always.

 _it was always you, falling for me_  
_now there's always time, calling for me_  
_I'm the light blinking at the end of the road_  
_blink back to let me know_

 

Finally, Harry’s mum decides Louis’s been through enough, and that he’s owed a hot meal and a warm bath. The Councilmembers leave, and dinner zooms in on an overzealous tea table. Harry’s sure Niall’s itching to stick his head in, too, and see how Louis is, but he seems to know that Harry might bury the next person to interrupt them in mulch.

Louis digs into his silvercorn and fairydust soup, and Harry watches him still, suddenly lost on what to say. Or rather, how to say what he needs to.

“So,” Louis says, after his bites have slowed down. He looks up at Harry through his long eyelashes, and Harry feels weak. “You kissed me.”

Harry blinks at him, then slowly nods. “I did.”

“The flowers were really cool,” Louis says casually. “Might’ve made that my best kiss, actually.”

Harry’s torn between frowning and beaming, so he’s not sure what his face is doing. _His best kiss_ , except, Harry wants to be Louis’s best kiss because he’s Harry, not because of his magic making a spectacle.

“Um,” Harry says. “Glad you liked it?”

Louis smiles. “I did,” he says, then he looks down at his soup. “I’ve, um. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

Harry inhales sharply. He didn’t expect that. “You - you have?”

Louis looks up at him again, looking shy but pleased. It’s odd, how bashful Louis is all of a sudden. “Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“I’m - _yes_ ,” Harry says, nodding fiercely, as there can’t be any mistake about this. “I’ve always wanted to kiss you.”

Louis grins, cheeky enough that it makes Harry relax. He looks more like himself. “Even when you were six?”

Harry laughs. “Lou, I wanted to _marry_ you when I was six,” he says, and then he feels his cheeks heat up.

Louis’s smile turns pointy and pleased. “Did you really?” he asks, his eyes happy slits.

Harry loves him.

“Yeah,” he says. It comes out a bit breathless. “I’m, um. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I just didn’t think - I didn’t want to get hurt again. When you go back home.”

The smile drops off Louis’s face until he just looks confused. “When am I going back home?”

Harry shrugs. “Eventually,” he says. “I mean. That’s what you do? You don’t stay here. You leave me.”

Louis inhales like he’s been physically hurt, and then he stands up and moves closer to Harry, abandoning his meal. “Harry, sweetheart,” he says. “I never want to leave you. Are you joking? The choice between a magical life in a fantasyland with you, or my dull drab life with no one? Of course I want to stay here.” Louis bites his lip. “Though, truth be told, I’d choose my dull drab life if you were coming with me. I just wanna be where you are.”

He’s close enough for Harry to scootch over and throw his arms around. His heart is so full, he feels that if he tries to speak he’ll cry, so he just buries his face in Louis’s neck. Louis’s arms come up and clasp between his shoulder blades, pulling him in closer.

“I wanna be with you too,” Harry whispers into Louis’s skin. “Everywhere with you.”

Louis rubs his back. “I love you, precious,” he says, and Harry’s heart literally skips a fucking beat. “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Harry pulls back enough to look Louis in the eyes, and when he sees the love and sincerity there he almost wants to pass out. “I love you too,” he says. His voice cracks and he doesn’t care. “I love you so much.”

Louis smiles, a soft thing that crinkles his eyes. And then he leans in and kisses Harry, and Harry feels happiness explode inside his chest. He wonders if he’ll always be so overwhelmed, every time Louis kisses him.

He pulls back for just a second, because he has to be certain, “So you really want to be with me?”

Louis laughs. “Yes, Harold,” he says. “Now will you let me bloody kiss you?”

Harry grins and leans in, pressing his smile to Louis’s.

♠♥♦♣

Harry’s desperate to get Louis in his bed, but Louis insists he has a bath first, given that he’s just spent days without one. Harry waits for him in his bedroom, unable to think about anything but the fact that Louis wants him back and he’s naked in the next room.

Louis comes into the room, loose shorts on and nothing else, and he smiles at Harry from the doorway. Harry can tell he’s feeling a lot of different things, can see it in his face, and he’s feeling the same way, but more than anything, Louis looks happy, and Harry is completely at ease. They meet in the middle and quickly end up in Harry’s bed, in his pink silk sheets. Harry’s always loved the feeling of his sheets, but it’s nothing compared to how Louis feels. Louis pulls Harry’s shirt off and then there’s so much skin, so much contact. They’re mostly kissing and touching but sometimes grinding together, and Harry doesn’t feel like he’s going to last very long. He’s okay with that. This orgasm has been a long time coming.

Ha, literally.

He might be starting to get the hang of innuendo.

“Wait, wait,” Louis gasps, pulling up off Harry a bit. “We, um, we should talk. About, um, what you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh,” Harry says. It’s difficult to think when all his brain wants to do is kiss Louis. “Um, whatever? It’s you, so.”

Louis’s eyes soften and his mouth drops open ever so slightly. Harry can’t resist kissing him, just a bit.

“But, um,” Louis says, pulling away again. Harry whines. “I just - I need to be clear, Haz, sorry.”

“S’okay,” Harry says. He loves communication. He’d love to be kissing Louis even more, but fine. “I meant it, though. Whatever. It’s you. I wanna touch you and taste you, I want you inside me. I wanna be inside you. I don’t care, I wanna do whatever you wanna do.”

Louis’s breathing kind of raggedly, clearly struggling to keep it together. “Fuck, Harry,” he groans, and Harry can’t help rubbing against him, just a bit. “Fuck. Oh my God. You’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m sorry,” says Harry, but he kisses Louis’s jaw to let him know that he isn’t really _that_ sorry if it means they both get orgasms.

“You’re a menace,” Louis says. “I can’t believe I just heard you say you want me inside you. Jesus fucking Christ, Harry.”

Harry smiles, even though he’s unable to get his lips off Louis’s skin long enough for Louis to see it. “You wanted to know what I wanted,” he mumbles against Louis’s clavicle. “That’s what I want.”

Louis moans and grabs him by the jaw, pulling him back up into a kiss. When Louis pulls away, he keeps hold of Harry’s jaw, so that their faces are inches apart and Harry can’t trail kisses anywhere else.

“I just wanna be prepared,” Louis says. “I wanna make this the best it can be. I don’t wanna rush things, I don’t wanna do anything you’re not ready for.”

He’s talking to Harry so sweetly, holding him and looking at him like he’s precious. Harry melts.

“Okay,” he manages. “Thank you, that’s nice. I’m glad.”

Louis smiles. “So. What have you done before, then?”

Harry stills. He didn’t think Louis would actually ask.

“Um,” Harry says. “Nothing.”

Louis’s eyes widen. He looks shocked, but he also looks hungry. “You mean nobody’s ever… and you were gonna let me fuck you?”

“I want you to,” Harry corrects. “But yeah, nobody. I mean, I’ve kissed a few boys, but it never… nobody ever made me feel it.” Harry shrugs. “I’ve known what love feels like since I was six years old. Nobody else compared.”

Louis inhales quickly and exhales shakily. “Fuck, Harry, I’m - I can’t,” he stops trying to talk and kisses Harry instead, hard and dirty and desperate. “I love you so much, I can’t believe you’re all mine, it wouldn’t matter if you’d been with anyone else but I’m a jealous shit and I can’t stand the idea of anyone touching you. I can’t believe I’m gonna be your first,” he babbles once he pulls away. His eyes look shiny. Harry surprises himself by how much he loves Louis's possessive side - it makes him feel adored. He can’t believe how much this beautiful boy loves him.

“I really hoped you would be,” Harry says honestly. “I mean, I didn’t think it was ever possible that it’d happen like this, but I hoped… it’d be you, at least once.”

Louis swallows, obviously emotional, and Harry leans in and kisses his nose.

“Now,” Harry says. “Can I blow you?”

Louis chokes on a laugh. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, cheers.”

“No worries,” Harry says happily, then he rolls Louis onto his back and scoots down the bed.

Everything Harry knows about sex he learned from Liam and Zayn, which was originally a bit of an awkward conversation, but was incredibly necessary. Harry was a very naive, innocent teenager, friends with a bunch of asexuals. He was confused by his hormones, about why it felt good when he touched himself. He didn’t want to ask his mum. Then Zayn and Liam showed up, and were so obsessed with each other. They explained a lot to him, and have steadily given him more knowledge ever since.

So Harry’s wondered for ages what sucking a cock would be like.

He knew it was a thing people did. He’s imagined it, even tried to practice on some yellowfruit. He didn’t choke, like Liam and Zayn said he might, but it was just messy and awkward. Still, he’s always been really into the idea. He used to get off thinking about blowing Louis, who became a faceless boy in his fantasies, someone who made him _feel_ the same way Louis did.

Face to face with a real life cock - with _Louis’s_ cock - is mind-blowing. It’s _big_ , thick and a few inches longer than Harry’s hand. It’s not that different to Harry’s cock, but it is very different to a yellowfruit.

“Harry?” Louis says, and Harry manages to tear his gaze away from his cock, only to see Louis’s concern. “You don’t have to. It’s fine, I understand.”

And he sounds like he actually does, but the thing is, Harry _wants_ this. He wants it so badly his heart is racing. It’s just one of those things where he’s anticipated it so much that he’s almost nervous to do it.

“I want to,” Harry says. “I really, really want to. I just think I’m gonna be really overwhelmed.”

Louis relaxes, and his hand slides into Harry’s hair. “It’s okay,” he says. “You can go as slow as you need. Do whatever you want.”

“Now you sound like me,” Harry says cheekily, and he reaches out and grabs ahold of Louis’s cock, at the base. He holds it in place as he leans in and licks the tip.

Louis inhales sharply, so Harry figures he’s doing the right thing. He flattens his tongue out around the head, then closes his mouth around it. And oh, there’s a small spurt of liquid onto his tongue. It must be precome. Harry keeps going, feeling it swirl around his mouth. He kind of loves the salty taste of it, he thinks because it _came from Louis’s body_. Harry feels light-headed, and he starts sucking in earnest, wanting more. He’s already addicted to this, to the taste and the feeling. He wants to know how much he can take, and then he wonders whether Louis would thrust into his mouth, and that thought has him pushing his other hand against his own straining cock.

Louis’s been swearing non-stop, his hand tightening a bit in Harry’s hair every so often, and then releasing, like he thinks he’s gone too far. Harry wants him to. Wants him to lose himself, to pull Harry’s hair, to _use_ him.

It’s a bit bloody much for their first time, though, so instead Harry decides to see how much of Louis he can take. He’s pleasantly surprised by how easy it is, how Louis’s cock fills out his mouth and slips down to the back of his throat. Harry loves it, and he can’t help but moan. Louis’s been very still, but at that - even Harry can feel the vibrations of his throat around Louis’s cock. Louis’s hand tightens in Harry’s hair and his other hand clenches in the sheets.

“God, Harry,” Louis gasps. “You have no _idea_ \- how good this feels - ”

Harry can feel precome blurting out, but he can’t really taste it; now he’s tasting his own saliva more than anything. And that’s no good, as much as Harry would love to keep his mouth stuffed full of Louis’s cock, he _needs_ to taste him. He pulls back until just the head is in his mouth, then he uses his hand to jerk Louis off and sucks lovingly at the head, coaxing out blurt after blurt of precome, until Louis says, “Wanna try bobbing your head, darling?”

Harry does, working his tongue as he goes and slurping up precome and spit, and finally Louis gasps loudly and comes. Then Harry’s mouth is full in a different way, and he waits until Louis’s finished, and then he pulls off. He lets it sit in his mouth for a moment, the warm, salty taste dripping over his tongue, until he swallows by reflex.

“Jesus,” Louis says. “Fuck. C’mere.”

Harry crawls up the bed, feeling kinda shaky and out of it. That was intense. He’s never been so turned on before, he feels like he could come any second.

“You okay?” Louis asks, gingerly pressing his fingers to Harry’s mouth. Harry can only imagine how he must look.

“‘M perfect,” Harry mumbles. He thinks there might be stars in his eyes, or tears. He blinks.

“Yeah, you are,” Louis says, kissing him hard and tugging at his waistband. “Lemme get these off.”

Right, yeah. Harry lifts himself a bit so Louis can pull his trousers down, just underneath his bum.

“I’m really close,” Harry warns him. “Like. Really close.”

“God, that’s hot,” Louis groans, reaching for Harry’s cock.

It takes him a second to get the right angle, but then it literally takes three drags and one deep kiss, and Harry - stops breathing for a few seconds, tingling down to his toes - and comes all over Louis’s fist. It feels like floating, and then it feels like falling, like free-falling, like landing in Louis’s arms. It’s better than any orgasm he’s ever had, any high he’s ever had, better than all of his best feelings.

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis says as Harry comes down and breathes into his collarbone. “That was the best blowjob I’ve ever had. Hands down. Do you even have a gag reflex?”

“A what?” Harry mumbles. He doesn’t think he’s heard of that.

“Nevermind,” Louis says. “And God, your face before you swallowed.”

Harry peeks up at Louis, not sure if he should be embarrassed. “You taste really good,” he says. “Like. _Really_ good. ‘M a bit addicted already.”

Louis’s breath catches. “God, everything about you is incredible,” he says. “You know most people don’t really like the taste, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Harry says. He frowns. “Is it, like, gross, then? That I like it?”

“No,” Louis says quickly. “God, no, nothing about you is gross. It makes you special. And it makes me feel really goddamn lucky.”

Harry smiles. “Okay, good,” he says. “For the record, I feel really lucky too.”

Everywhere.

 _I’ll speak a little louder, I’ll even shout_  
_you know that I’m proud and I can’t get the words out_  
_oh I, I wanna be with you everywhere_

 

Harry wakes up feeling perfectly content. In fact, he’s certain he’s never been this content in his life. He’s in Louis’s arms, the little spoon, Louis’s breath tickling his neck, pressed flush against Louis’s body. His heart is so happy; it’s still so unbelievable that he’s gotten what he’s always wanted. The only boy he’s ever loved is safe, and loves him back, and wants to _stay_. Harry feels like he honestly could cry with joy.

There’s only one reason he doesn’t, and it’s poking against his bum.

Harry wiggles experimentally, biting his lip. It feels _good_ , having Louis there. Harry’s never had anything in his bum before, save for his fingers once or twice, but he suddenly really wants this. Like, he wanted it last night, but he _really_ wants it today.

He bounces slowly, minisculely, rubbing steadily back against Louis until Louis moans in his sleep and pushes forward. His cock slips between Harry’s arse cheeks, because of course they’ve both slept naked, and Harry cries out in surprise and satisfaction. It’s _so_ close to what he wants.

He cranes his neck until he can reach Louis’s face, and then he peppers kisses on it as Louis stirs. “C’mon, Lou, wake up, please,” Harry says, grinding back against him.

Louis groans and pushes forward as he wakes up, and Harry cries out again.

Louis stills. “Oh shit,” he says, voice thick with sleep. “Oh, shit, are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you?”

Harry’s heart thumps wildly. “I’m fine, I’m so good,” he says, even though his neck’s starting to ache. “I really want you to fuck me.”

Louis jerks, his eyes wide. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah, okay. Are you sure?”

Harry smiles happily. “I’m sure,” he says. He grinds back again for good measure, then kisses Louis tongue-first.

Louis pulls away after a few seconds. “I haven’t brushed my teeth,” he says, and Harry rolls his eyes.

“I woke up with your cock almost in my bum, I don’t care about that,” Harry says. “You don’t even taste bad. You’re fine.” Not as sweet as usual, but not bad. He just tastes like himself.

Louis frowns, and then he kisses Harry purposefully.

“Do I taste bad?” Harry asks.

“No,” Louis says. “What the fuck. You just taste like you. Is that a Wonderland thing?”

Now Harry’s confused. “Maybe? Why, what happens in The Other World?”

“Everyone has pretty rank breath when they wake up,” Louis says. “Maybe it’s the food in Wonderland that makes the difference.”

“Maybe,” Harry says. He doesn’t care about this anymore. “You’re forgetting about something important, by the way.” He wiggles his bum and Louis laughs.

“Alright, fine,” Louis says, like it’s a hardship. He pushes Harry onto his back, and then rolls on top of him and smiles down at him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Harry says. “There’s lube in the drawer there. I’d really like it if you used it. Now.”

Louis smiles. “So fucking demanding,” he says as he reaches over and opens the drawer. “I’d love to really make you beg for it.”

Harry whimpers. He’d love that too. “Another time?” he requests. “Because I’m actually pretty desperate, and I feel like you’re gonna go slow anyway, it being my first time.”

Louis looks at him with soft eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “I am.”

♠♥♦♣

Afterwards, after they’ve cuddled and sent out for food, a plan occurs to Harry.

“So I didn’t know when I was gonna show you,” he says. “But I’m thinking today would be a perfect day to go to the top of the Sequoia tree.”

“Where Liam lives?” Louis asks as he munches on a marshpuff. “Why, what’s even up there?”

Harry smiles. He hopes he looks mysterious. “You’ll see.”

Getting out of bed requires a lot of effort, but once they’ve finished eating, Harry forces Louis to get up and get dressed.

“The sooner we leave, the sooner we can be back here,” he reasons.

“ _Or_ ,” Louis says. “We could just stay here and cuddle all day.”

Harry purses his lips and considers it. “Hmm, no. I feel like you need to see the tree today,” he says. “I feel like we need to share that together.”

Louis sighs dramatically. “ _Fine_ ,” he says. “You know I’ll follow you anywhere.”

♠♥♦♣

They spend the walk singing Panic! At The Disco and Fleetwood Mac songs loudly, their joined hands swaying in between them. The sun is shining from behind pink clouds the way Harry likes, and he swears the air is sweeter, that everything is brighter. It probably is; Wonderland feeds off emotions, after all. And Harry’s never been happier, so of course Wonderland has never been prettier.

When they reach the Sequoia, Harry gets out his vial of Fizzy Lifting Drink. “We need more this time,” he says, and Louis holds out his tongue and patiently waits for Harry to drop seven drops into his mouth.

Harry deserves an award for immediately dripping the potion into his own mouth as well, and not just making out with Louis until he floated away. Because of Harry’s remarkable and heroic restraint, they can float up the side of the tree holding hands.

It’s a long way up, and Harry can’t help sneaking glances at the wonder on Louis’s face. He keeps an eye out for the uppermost branches, though, and when they’re approaching he tells Louis to grab hold.

They both grasp a branch at the same time, and work their way along to the trunk of the tree.

“You should be alright to stand,” Harry says. “But hold on if you feel you need to.”

Louis nods. He looks a bit pale. “We’re a very long way up, aren’t we?”

Harry nods. “Best not to think about it,” he says. “C’mon.”

At the treetrunk there’s a ladder leading into the clouds, and at the base of the ladder, the Cheshire Cat appears. He doesn’t live here, he usually lives around the palace, but he’s the most magical being in Wonderland. He’s in charge of the Ladder, so he can sense whenever anyone approaches it and appears to question them.

“Hello, Harry,” the Cat says warmly. He’s always had a soft spot for Harry, Harry knows.

“Hi, Chesh,” Harry says. “You remember Louis.”

“Obviously,” says the Cat, rolling his eyes. “What are the two of you doing at the tips of this terrifyingly tall tree?”

“Don’t remind me,” Louis mutters, and the Cat grins.

“We’d love to go up, Chesh,” Harry says with his most charming smile. “Pretty please.”

“Oh, Harry,” says the Cat. “Give me one good reason why.”

“Because Louis has no idea what we’re talking about,” Harry says, and the Cat looks at Louis curiously.

“It’s true,” Louis confirms.

“Hmmm,” the Cat hums. “Interesting. And is Louis planning on being a permanent resident of Wonderland?”

Harry looks at Louis. This is what he’s unsure of. He knows Louis loves him, he believes that, and he believes that Louis _wants_ to stay with him. But he also knows that Louis has a responsibility to his sisters. He must feel conflicted.

He _looks_ conflicted, but only for a moment. Then he smiles at Harry. “Yeah,” he says. “I’d like to.”

“Well then,” says the Cat, his grin widening impossibly. “Who am I to stop you?” He disappears, then reappears again very quickly. “That’s just a figure of speech. I’m literally the only one who could stop you. It’s only out of my kindness that you’re able to go up.”

Harry giggles. “We know that, Chesh.”

“Alright,” the Cat says. “Just making sure.” Then he disappears again.

“What exactly is up there?” Louis asks, standing at the base of the ladder and looking up distrustfully.

“It’s like… ultra Wonderland,” Harry says. “Like Wonderland condensed. That’s the only way I can explain it.”

Louis purses his lips. “Well, if you say it’s safe…”

“It is,” Harry says, because it mostly is. It’ll be safe for them. There’s always a risk, but Harry’s sure they’re feeling too good for anything bad to happen.

Louis nods and begins to climb the ladder, Harry right behind him. It’s not a long climb at all, about ten rungs, and then they’re above the clouds. Once Harry pulls himself out of the hole and stands, everything around them swirls until they’re standing in a spectrum of colour, surrounded by the vastness of the universe.

“What _is_ this place?” Louis asks breathlessly.

“You know Wonderland feeds off emotions,” Harry says. “Well, this is the extreme version of that. It can create an environment based on how you’re feeling or what you need, and since only one or two people are allowed up here at a time, it’s extremely concentrated.”

“Huh,” Louis says. “Cool.”

“You can also make wishes, basically,” Harry says. “Anything you want, you can have.”

“Well, firstly, I want this,” Louis says cheekily, pulling Harry in by the waist and kissing him.

When Harry opens his eyes again, the world has exploded. It’s like they’re standing in the centre of the sun, except obviously they’re not on fire. Everything is just golden.

“It matches your aura,” Harry says. “And your soul.”

“And your heart,” Louis says, kissing his cheek. “What happens now?”

“We decide where we want to go,” Harry says. “Anywhere we can imagine, we can go.”

Louis bites his lip. “There’s something I need,” he says. “And I don’t know if it’ll work, if it can do it.”

“We can try,” says Harry. “What is it?”

Louis sighs. “I need to feel okay about leaving my sisters,” he says. “I need to know that they’ll be okay.”

As soon as he says so, the world around them spins again and settles. They’re in a home. It’s not furnished like anything Harry’s seen before, and the colours are muted, desaturated. It’s a very peculiar place.

Harry turns to Louis to say so and stops at the look on his face. His mouth has dropped open and he looks awestruck and devastated at the same time.

“Lou,” Harry says softly. “What is this?”

Louis looks at him, his eyes wide. “This is my sister’s flat,” he says. “In London. My sister Lottie.”

He turns his gaze back around the room, and Harry does the same. Harry almost can't believe his eyes. He never thought he'd see The Other World. This is incredible. This is where Louis's from, where his family live. Harry's thrilled as he soaks it in - they're in some sort of sitting room, and now that he looks, he can see that despite the muted colours, it is quite festive - there’s a large tree in the corner, covered in shiny objects and twinkling lights. Harry’s partial to that, he's always thought that the palace should have more indoor plants. He likes that apparently it's an Other World custom. Then he’s notices that there’s a big black rectangle taking up half a wall. He wonders what that could possibly be.

And then two girls enter the room, each of them holding a cup of tea. Louis gasps.

“That’s my sisters,” he breathes.

One of them has brown hair, but the other has lavender hair. She seems magical enough, Harry thinks. They don’t seem to hear Louis when he speaks, as they don’t look over, they sit on the settee and continue talking to one another.

“I don’t think this is real, exactly, Lou,” says Harry. “I’ve heard that the Sequoia can do this. Make projections of a possible future.”

Louis tears his eyes away from his sisters. “So it wants to show me what could happen if I stay in Wonderland?”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers. Louis holds a hand to his chest.

“I don’t know if I want to see this, Harry,” he says.

Harry bites his lip and takes his hand. “If it gets too much, we can leave,” he says. “But the tree knows you better than you know yourself. If we’re still here, it means you want to be here.”

Louis takes a deep breath and looks back at his sisters. “Okay,” he says.

The girls are talking in low, concerned voices, and it takes Harry a moment to realise they’re talking about Louis. They’re worried, and upset, and they miss him, and with every word, Louis’s expression gets sadder and sadder.

Harry’s trying so hard not to panic. What if this makes Louis decide not to stay? He _has_ to push that thought aside; he can’t let his fear influence anything they experience here.

And then a swirling bluish green spot appears in the wall. Both of the girls jump in surprise, and then the White Rabbit bursts out of the spot. Oh, wow. Harry's never seen the portal to Wonderland before. Or, well, he was too young to remember it, anyway.

“Pardon me,” the White Rabbit says, and the girls stare at him.

“Do you see that?” Lottie asks, and Fizzy nods. “Did you _hear_ that?” Fizzy nods again.

“Ever so sorry to startle you,” says the Rabbit. “I have a message from your brother Louis.”

“You do,” says Lottie sceptically.

“Yes,” says the Rabbit. “I’m to tell you he’s safe. He’s in Wonderland.”

“And what is that?” asks Fizzy. She doesn’t seem as disbelieving as Lottie is, she’s a bit more curious.

“An alternate reality, in your understanding of it,” says the Rabbit. “It’s a magical land, and people who live with great sadness are offered the chance to stay there and find happiness. I’m pleased to inform you that your brother has found happiness, and he wishes to stay.”

The girls gape at him. Louis squeezes Harry’s fingers hard.

“I have to tell you,” the Rabbit says when they don’t respond. “It’s quite unusual that I deliver a message to this world from ours.”

“I’m sorry,” Lottie says. “But why should we believe you?”

“Because I’m a talking rabbit who just astro travelled into your home?”

“You could be a hallucination,” says Fizzy uncertainly.

“I assure you I am not,” says the Rabbit. He reaches into the pocket of his waistcoat. “I have proof.”

He pulls out Louis’s phone and offers it to the girls.

“Oh, smart,” Louis murmurs.

“He asked if you could please charge it, by the way,” the Rabbit says. "Whatever that means." Lottie goes to get something and Fizzy takes the phone from the Rabbit.

They go through the phone and find all the photos Louis’s taken in Wonderland. They’re both still in a normal amount of shock, and then they find a video that Louis apparently recorded, where he explains everything to them. He introduces them to Harry, and the girls coo, and then he says he wants them to be okay more than anything, and if they need him to come home, he will.

The girls stare at each other when the video finishes, matching tears and shocked expressions on their faces.

“May I have a cup of tea, while you decide?” asks the Rabbit politely.

Lottie makes him a cup of tea and the girls discuss it, but they quickly come to the conclusion that if this is real, and it looks as though it is, then they simply cannot be the reason Louis tethers himself to his old sad life instead of 'that boy he’s obviously in love with'. (Harry tries not to smile at that part, but then Louis smiles at him, so it's okay.)

“We’re not going to make him do that,” Lottie says firmly. “He hasn’t been the same since Mum died, and he looks so happy now, did you see?”

Fizzy nods. “That’s what I thought too,” she says. “He looks like his old self.”

Louis makes a choked noise, and Harry looks over to see a tear rolling down his cheek.

“Tell Louis he needs to stay there,” Lottie tells the Rabbit. “He needs to put himself first. We’ll be okay.”

“And tell him we love him,” Fizzy says. “We love him so much.”

Louis whimpers. Harry squeezes his hand.

“Alright,” says the Rabbit. “Is that - thing - charged?”

Lottie checks the phone and says it is, and she hands it to him. He pockets it and turns towards the wall.

“Wait,” Fizzy says. The Rabbit turns back around. “Just, thank you. For doing this. You said you don’t do it often.”

“You’re welcome,” says the Rabbit. “And no, I don’t usually. But Louis Tomlinson is important.” Then he waves, and hops back through the portal.

The world spins until they’re standing in a sea of clouds. Harry knows this is what the top of the tree looks like when it’s finished with its subject.

“Are you okay, Lou?” he asks.

Louis rubs his hands across his face, then heaves a sigh. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ve made my decision.”

Harry’s heart leaps into his throat. He tries to play it cool. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says. He takes Harry’s hands in his and looks him in the eye. “Baby, obviously I'm gonna stay with you. Here.”

Harry honestly feels faint. He just - he hoped so, so badly - but deep down, he didn’t think Louis would actually choose him. He feels numb with relief.

“Are you okay?” Louis asks, and Harry feels a tear drip down his face.

“Yeah,” he says. “Wow. Yeah. I’m amazing. I just can’t…”

Louis gives him a sympathetic smile, and then buries him in a hug.

“Let’s get down from here,” Harry says into his shoulder. “We need to find the White Rabbit.”

Dice.

 _nothing can compare  
_ _to when you roll the dice and swear your love’s for me_

 

It’s happened every day since Louis started sleeping in Harry’s bed; they’ll wake up and find Harry’s tattoos running amok on Louis. The first morning, it was just his rose. It had transferred over onto Louis’s arm and had pierced itself on his stationary dagger tattoo. The next morning, it was Harry’s mermaid, smiling at them as she swam up and down Louis’s arm, looking incredibly pleased with herself. The morning they woke up facing each other, Harry’s butterfly was on Louis’s stomach, flapping its wings.

This morning, Harry’s bee is stuck in the spiderweb on Louis’s leg. Louis’s trying to coax it out, but it’s no use; the bee is well and truly stuck.

Harry looks down at his mermaid. She looks back at him, unimpressed. Harry lays his arm against Louis’s leg, and pokes at her. “C’mon,” he says. “I know you can do it. Hop off and help.”

“Maybe they can only transfer while we’re asleep,” Louis suggests, which is possible, but Harry thinks his mermaid’s just being stubborn.

“I’ve never heard about tattoos transferring between people at all,” Harry says. “I don’t know how this works, but I feel like she can do it.”

His mermaid gives him another unimpressed look, and then she sighs and dives off Harry’s arm, onto Louis’s skin. She doesn’t float through the air or anything - she’s just on Harry one second, and on Louis the next. Harry felt a tingle as she left, but that was all.

It’s quite amazing.

He and Louis watch as the mermaid works to untangle the bee from Louis’s spiderweb. Harry’s sure Louis’s flabbergasted expression matches his own. He’s used to his tattoos moving, obviously. But they’ve never jumped off his skin before.

Finally, the bee is free, and Harry lays his arm back against Louis’s leg. “C’mon, both of you. Back here, please.”

The mermaid frowns at him, but she follows the bee back onto Harry’s arm. There’s another tingle as they both transfer back onto his skin.

Harry looks up at Louis, who’s staring at Harry’s arm in wonder.

“You know,” Louis says. “I might be ready for one of those magical tattoos meself. Where did you get it?”

Harry smiles, excited. He’s got plans for more tattoos himself. “Zayn. He’s got Tattoo Magic.”

Louis stretches out and smiles. “Wanna visit Zayn today, babe?”

♠♥♦♣

“So what d’you wanna get?” Zayn asks as he gets his tattoo gun and inks ready.

“Was thinking a compass,” Louis says. “In black and white. But instead of pointing to North, I want you to write ‘Home’. So it’s always pointing to home.”

“Right,” Zayn says, nodding. “What style d’you want?”

“Was thinking something old-fashioned. To match the feel of this place, yeah?”

“Cool,” Zayn says. “I’ll draw something up. And just so you know - I can’t choose how your tattoos are animated. That’s down to the tattoo, to you, and the meaning you give it.”

“It’s kinda a fun surprise,” Harry says. Louis smiles at him.

“Right,” Zayn says. “Just, y’know. Don’t blame me if it does something you’re not happy with.”

Louis nods. “I won’t,” he says. “I’m pretty confident it’ll be good.”

“S’pretty rare it’s not,” Harry says. “My mermaid’s the only one that surprised me.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis says. “Why’s that?”

Goodness, Harry loves how Louis is always so interested in every ordinary thing he says. It makes him feel so cared for and appreciated. “Well, I was feeling like nobody valued me for who I was. I felt like people just liked me for how I looked, and for my title. So my mermaid - she’s supposed to be me, sort of. She’s not like other mermaids, she’s not sexy and coy. She just is. And her imperfections are right there. She’s supposed to represent how I feel about what people think of me - who I want to be. How I want to project myself. Except she took on everything I was feeling that day, which means she has a bit of an attitude problem.”

Louis laughs. “She is a fiesty one, isn’t she?”

Harry smiles. “She doesn’t take any shit,” he says. “I guess, like, be aware of what you might be feeling, under the surface, you know?”

Louis nods, his smile confident. “I think it’ll be fine.”

Harry spends the time Zayn takes drawing up the tattoo to come up with his own idea. He has a catalogue of matching tattoo ideas in his mind, and he tries to figure out what matches a compass. He dismisses other travelling or nautical themed ones until he hits on his favourite idea.

“How would you feel if I got a ship?” he asks Louis. “Kinda to match. As ships need compasses.”

“That’s… I’d love that,” Louis says, his eyes twinkling. “Do you really want to have complimentary tattoos?”

“Well, I think we already have them,” Harry says. “My rose seems to think it belongs with your dagger.”

“True,” Louis says with a smile. “If you want a ship, I’m all for it. I’d love that.”

♠♥♦♣

It takes a few hours, but that's fine. They spend the time chatting, of course, but Harry also amuses himself by growing flowers into his hair and Louis's. He gives Louis a little flower crown, and then he starts growing flowers into Louis's facial hair.

Louis giggles. "That tickles," he says. Harry keeps going anyway, until Louis has a beard of flowers, and then he laughs and wipes them away.

Eventually they’re both freshly tattooed and bandaged. Zayn gives them a salve to apply every hour, which should heal the skin by tomorrow. Louis’s doubtful of that, since apparently tattoos heal slower in The Other World, but Harry’s a pro at this and he assures him it’ll work. Louis argues the point, and Harry quickly realises Louis is just antsy to see how his tattoo turned out. It won’t start to move until tomorrow, until the skin’s healed, so the suspense is a bit unbearable.

“Are you two quite finished?” Zayn asks wearily. “I need some alone time, ‘f’m’honest, so d’you think you could be off soon?”

“Of course, mate,” Harry says. “Thanks a million for these.”

“No worries,” Zayn says with a smile. “Always happy to do it.”

“Oh, wait,” Louis says. “Wait. I just remembered something. D’you know anything about tattoos transferring onto other people?”

Zayn’s eyebrows furrow. “Transferring…?”

“Yeah, like. Say, if I wake up and Harry’s tattoos have migrated onto me.”

“Don’t worry,” Zayn says. “I don’t think that will happen.”

“Um,” Harry says. “It already has.”

He and Louis describe the last few mornings, and Zayn’s mouth falls open.

“Fuck,” he says. “Lads. That’s - that’s really fucking rare, that is. That’s not only soulmate level stuff, that’s like, top tier, perfect match, soulmate stuff.”

Harry feels like his blood sizzles in excitement, and then he settles into a comfortable cloud. It’s like his entire body relaxes. Louis is his soulmate. Of course he is.

He looks at Louis to make sure he’s not spooked, and finds him smiling. Louis meets Harry’s eyes and his smile widens.

“I’m your soulmate,” Louis says.

Harry smiles back. “Of course you are.”

♠♥♦♣

The next day, they unravel their bandages for the last time and expose their tattoos. The sails on Harry’s ship are billowing, and the water underneath it is rippling. Louis’s compass doesn’t seem to be moving, and Louis is obviously and massively disappointed, until about ten minutes later, when Harry gets up and moves across the room.

“Haz!” Louis gasps, and Harry comes back, just in time to see the compass spin, north/‘home’ pointing to where Harry is standing. Harry wants to cry.

“I guess you feel like I’m your home,” he says, trying his hardest not to sound wobbly and not quite succeeding.

“I guess I do,” Louis says, looking pleased. He reaches over and pulls Harry in by the bow on his shirt, and when he kisses Harry, Harry knows he’s found his home too.

**epilogue: one month later**

Nine In The Afternoon.

 _your eyes are the size of the moon_  
_you could 'cause you can so you do_  
_we're feeling so good, just the way that we do_  
_when it's nine in the afternoon_

 

“So there’s three reasons we’ve invited you all here today,” Louis says. They’re in Harry’s garden, which is almost full to bursting with all their friends and family. “The first reason is the one I just showed you.” He gestures to the gadget on the table in front of him. It’s a round black thing made out of metal and wood, and Louis calls it a _radio_.

Harry is so, so proud of him. He’s taken to his magic fast in the last couple of weeks, getting high to jog it along. They thought it was Science Magic, but turns out it’s specifically Electrical Magic, and Louis already has a long list of inventions he wants to introduce to Wonderland.

The radio is his first pursuit. He says it’s different to Other World radios, because they don’t have Telecommunication here, but it’s a close enough concept. Louis has programmed the radios he makes to tap into a magical network he created, which is essentially a library of songs. It has another use, as well; it can tap into that magical network to send voice messages to other radios.

It’s fantastic. Harry’s so proud, and he suggested this garden party to show it off.

“The second reason,” Louis continues. “Is that we love you all and we wanted to have a party.” There’s a smattering of pleased laughter. “And the third is that Harry here has never played a game of football. So we’re going to fix that right now. Anybody who wants to play, follow us over here! The rest of you enjoy your tea!”

Everyone applauds and Niall cheers, and then Harry and Louis lead a group of their guests over the to the area of the garden Louis turned into a football pitch.

“Alright,” Louis says. “Who wants to be on my team, and who wants to be on Harry’s?”

Louis ends up with Liam, Niall, Gemma, Perrie, Leigh Anne, and the March Hare, while Harry has the Hatter, Jade, Jesy, Ed, and the Cheshire Cat. Harry’s bitter that his closest friends _and_ his bloody sister chose Louis over him, as well as the fact that he has less players.

“Does everyone think I’m going to lose?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course not, love, no one thinks that,” says Louis, throwing a comforting arm around Harry. “I mean, you are, but - ”

Harry throws his arm off in mock outrage and then demands that Zayn join them to even out the teams. Zayn reluctantly agrees.

It doesn’t help. The only liability on Louis’s team is Marchie, whereas the only people on Harry’s team who know what they’re doing are Jesy and Ed. Harry’s team is losing badly, and the Cheshire Cat sidles up to him as Louis calls half time.

“I think we should cheat,” he says.

Harry’s listening.

He and the Cheshire Cat spend the second half teleporting around the field when nobody’s paying attention. They prevent two goals, and Harry thinks they’re getting away with it, until Louis yells, “Harold! Stop teleporting!”

“I’m not!” Harry yells back, and continues to do it.

His team still loses, but he riles Louis up in the meantime, which is almost more of a victory.

Afterwards, Louis pulls him out of the garden and pushes him up against the hedge. He smells like grass and salty sweat, and he kisses Harry hard.

“I’m going to get you back for that,” he promises. “Tonight. You’re not going to come until I let you.”

Harry shivers at the idea. “That doesn’t exactly sound like a punishment.”

Louis’s eyes darken. “I’ll show you punishment,” he says, and Harry breathes in sharply.

They’re interrupted from their conversation, which is probably a good thing, because Harry was two more sentences away from abandoning this party they’re hosting. It’s Niall, calling their names, and then he pokes his head through the hedge and sees them.

“The Hatter’s looking for you,” he says.

When they find the Hatter, he’s shy and thrilled, shaking with what seems like anticipation. “I have gifts for you,” he says.

He waves his hand and conjures up a hat box, half as big as he is, which he sets on the ground in front of Louis. He sets a smaller box in front of Harry, and then a tiny box on top of that.

“Open them, open them!” he chants, clapping his hands.

Harry watches Louis open his first, because he wants to see his reaction - and wow. The hat is even more extravagant than it was the last time Harry saw it. There’s a plume of blue and green feathers on top, a brim wider than the width of Louis’s shoulders, and two swathes of light blue fabric fall from it.

“You tie that under your chin,” says the Hatter enthusiastically as Louis lifts it out of the box.

He looks stunned, and Harry knows he’s thinking what Harry’s thinking. This hat will make him look like a child playing dress up with their mum’s clothes. But then he looks at the Hatter, and something shifts on his face. Louis puts the hat on and ties it up under his chin, then stands up straight, a resoluteness in his jaw.

“You look beautiful,” says the Hatter, emotion in his voice.

“I love it,” Louis says fiercely. “Thank you so much.”

Harry opens his own box, his chest full of love for his sweet and compassionate boy, and then he yelps in happiness. His own hat looks just like the last one the Hatter made for him, a bed of colourful flowers, except this time it’s missing a certain immobile flamingo.

“Here, here, open this,” says the Hatter excitedly, pushing the tiniest box into Harry’s hands.

Harry opens it and finds the small hat that the flamingo on his old hat was wearing, as well as the ribbon from around its neck. “Is this…?”

“Yes!” cries the Hatter happily. “It’s for Rupert!”

Harry beams, and he calls for Rupert. When Harry puts the little hat on his head and the ribbon around his neck, he’s delighted, holding his head up high and moving it slowly, showing off how he looks. When Harry puts his own hat on his head and taps the flower bed pointedly, Rupert is beside himself. He squawks, questioning but excited, and Harry nods.

“Yeah, sweetheart, you can sit up here,” he says.

“It’s designed to hold a lot of weight,” explains the Hatter, and when Rupert flies up and settles himself on Harry’s hat, Harry barely feels it.

They wear their hats for the rest of the party, even when it’s awkward to do so. They have tea and dinner and chat with their guests. Taylor's trial ended the day before yesterday, so there's plenty to talk about. She's just begun serving her life sentence locked up in a Magic-Binding Cell in their dungeon, and everyone wants to know the gritty details of the trial. Her sentence is quite harsh, but she's not to be trusted, and at least she's eligible for appeal in one hundred years.

The Mock Turtle shows up, which makes Harry happy - Harry loves him but he rarely gets to see him. He lives quite far away and he doesn’t like to venture out very often. Harry’s excited to introduce him to Louis, and they talk for ages, until the Mock Turtle figures out that his best friend is Louis’s father.

Louis looks shocked, and Harry tries to figure out if he’s okay. He knows how Louis feels about his father, knows he doesn’t want to find him, that he doesn’t want anyone outside of Harry’s family to know his heritage. Harry understands, but he also can’t believe that Louis has so much family floating around Wonderland and he’s not interested in finding any of them. Like, he literally doesn’t believe it. He thinks Louis will want to track down his relatives some day, he’s just not ready yet.

“Wow,” Louis eventually says. “Um. Tell me about him? Please?”

The Mock Turtle does - says he’s a good friend and a good person, but he’s easily overwhelmed, very insecure and hard on himself. Harry watches the micro expressions flit across Louis’s face as the Turtle talks, trying to decipher how he feels. He thinks Louis is caught off guard, but he’s curious. He wants to understand his father.

“Maybe one day I’ll be ready to meet him,” Louis says. “But not now. Not soon.”

“I understand,” says the Turtle. “Would you like me to tell him about you? I don’t have to.”

“No, that’s alright,” Louis says. “I think I want him to know. But make sure he knows I’ll find him when I’m ready.”

The Mock Turtle nods, and when Harry asks him if he’s okay, Louis nods too.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s actually kind of nice to know he’s out there. You know, it might even be nice to have family in Wonderland. I mean, outside of you lot.”

Harry beams and kisses Louis’s cheek, and Rupert squawks as he slides and almost falls off Harry’s hat.

♠♥♦♣

As the sun begins to set, the party turns into a singalong, with Ed at the center with his lute. People are singing and dancing, there are shooting stars in the sky and the lights of fairies zipping around. Harry and Louis finally take off their hats so that they can comfortably slowdance cheek to cheek.

Harry looks down at their entwined hands as they dance, at their newest tattoos, and sees that the rope on Louis’s wrist has wound its way up his hand and onto Harry’s wrist, threading through the hole in the top of his anchor. Harry looks at Louis’s face, at the lights cast over it, and he just feels perfectly, thoroughly happy.

 ♠♥♦♣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading! i had really high ambitions for this fic that i definitely fell short of, so if anyone enjoyed this it would really make me feel better lmao. there's a tumblr post [here](http://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/post/173825032668/like-cabbages-and-kings-for-onedirectionbigbang) if you'd like to reblog! also if you have any questions feel free to ask me! i probably have half a fic's worth of headcanons, so. i also have [a tag here](http://nobodymoves.tumblr.com/tagged/wonderland-au) for things that remind me of this :)


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